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LIVES    AND   EXPLOITS 


OF  r//£  MOST  NOTED 


HIGH  WAY  MEN, 

ROBBERS    AND    MURDERERS, 

OF    ALL    NATIONS, 

DPAWN  PROM  THE   MOST  AUTHENTIC    SOURCES 

AND    BROUGHT    DOWN    TO 

©mm  spiEiisiiss's  snfflHo 


WITH  NUMEROUS  ENGRAVINGS. 

HARTFORD: 

PUBLISHED  BY  SILAS  ANDRUS  &  SON. 


Uantroii  liLniy 


CONTENTS. 


'  Claude  Du  Vail, 7 

*  Sawney  Beane, 14 

*  Thomas  Wynne, 13 

>  Thomas  Witherington, 22 

*  James  Batson, »   .  .   .  34 

^.  *  Mulled  Sack,  alias  John  Cottington, 47 

*  Capt.  James  Hind, 50 

5  The  German  Princess 61 

*Capt.  Dudley, 76 

xr  William  Nevison 89 

v  The  Golden  Farmer, 99 

*  Jonathan  Simpson, 104 

v  William  Cady, 107 

^X  Patrick  O'Brian, 114 

* /Thomas  Rumbold, 117 

a  «Whitney, 4 134 

^  xTim  Buckeley, 144 

C^  *Tom  Jones, 147 

*  Arthur  Chambers, 151 

\  Stephen  Bunce, 157 

y  Jack  Ovet, 164 

yTomDorbel, 169 

r  Dick  Adams,    . 172 

V  William  Gettings, 176 

KNed  Bonnet, 181 

>^  Wih  Ogden  and  Tom  Reynolds, 187 

t  Jobn  Price, 190 

/Jack  Shepherd, 194 

y  Richard  Turpin, 201 

j<Heniy  Simms, 216 

.•'James  Maclainc,      229 

h  Eugene  Aram, 245 

X  George  Barrington, 260 

k  James  Porter 281 


Claude  Du  Vcui.       P.  f. 


/ 


CLAUDE  DU  VALL. 

It  might  very  naturally  be  objected  to  us  by  some, 
that  we  should  introduce  into  our  work  the  life  of 
any  highwayman,  however  celebrated,  whose  fortune 
it  was  to  have  been  born  in  France ;  but,  without  in- 
sisting upon  the  celebrity  of  the  person  whose  life  we 
are  about  to  narrate,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  inform  the 
objecting  reader,  that  many  of  the  adventures  achieved 
by  Claude  du  Vail  were  performed  in  England,  and 
that  he  is  accordingly,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
although  a  Frenchman  by  birth,  an  English  high- 
wayman. 

This  noted  person  was  born  at  Domfront,  in  Nor- 
mandy.#     His   father  was  a  miller,   and  his  mother 

*  We  find,  by  reference  to  an  old  Life  of  Du  Vail,  published  in 
1670,  that  Domfront  was  a  place  by  no  means  unlikely  to  have  pro- 
duced our  adventurer.  Indeed,  it  appears  that  common  honesty  was 
a  most  uncommon  ingredient  in  the  moral  economy  of  the  place,  as 
the  following  curious  extract  from  the  work  in  question  will  abun- 
dantly testify : — 

"In  the  days  of  Charles  IX.  the  curate  of  Domfront,  (for  so  the 
French  name  him  whom  we  call  parson,  and  vicar,)  out  of  his  own 
head  began  a  strange  innovation  and  oppression  in  that  parish ;  that 
is,  he  absolutely  denied  to  baptize  any  of  their  children,  if  they  would 
not,  at  the  same  time,  pay  him  his  funeral  fees :  and  what  was  worse, 
he  would  give  them  no  reason  for  this  alteration,  but  only  promised 
to  enter  bond  for  himself  and  successors,  that  hereafter,  all  persons 
paying  so  at  their  christening  should  be  buried  gratis.  What  think 
ye  the  poor  people  did  in  this  case  ?  They  did  not  pull  his  surplice 
over  his  ears,  nor  tear  his  mass-book,  nor  throw  crickets  at  his  head  : 
no,  they  humbly  desired  him  to  alter  his  resolutions,  and  amicably 
reasoned  with  him ;  but  he,  being  a  capricious  fellow,  gave  them  no 
other  answer,  but  '  What  I  have  done,  I  have  done ;  take  your  remedy 
where  you  can  find  it ;  it  is  not  for  men  of  my  coat  to  give  an 
account  of  my  actions  to  the  laity ;'  which  was  a  surly  and  quar- 
relsome answer,  and  unbefitting  a  priest.  Yet  this  did  not  provoke 
his .  parishioners  to  speak  one  ill  word  against  his  person  or  function, 
or  to  do  any  illegal  act.     Tbey  only  took  the  regular  way  erf  com 


8  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

was  descended  from  a  worshipful  race  of  tailors.  He 
was  brought  up  in  the  Catholic  faith,  and  received  an 
education  suited  to  the  profession  for  which  he  was 
intended, — namely,  that  of  a  footman.  But,  although 
his  father  was  careful  to  train  up  his  son  in  the 
religion  of  his  ancestors,  he  was  himself  utterly  with- 
out religion.  He  talked  more  of  good  cheer  than  of 
the  church  ;  of  sumptuous  feasts  than  of  ardent  faith ; 
of  good  wine  than  of  good  works. 

Du  ValPs  parents  were  exempted  from  the  trouble 
and  expense  of  rearing  their  son  at  the  age  of  thirteen. 
We  first  find  him  at  Rouen,  the  principal  city  of  Nor- 
mandy, in  the  character  of  a  stable-boy.  Here  he 
foitunately  found  retour  horses  going  to  Paris:  upon 
one  of  these  he  was  permitted  to  ride,  on  condition 
of  assisting  to  dress  them  at  night.  His  expenses  were 
likewise  defrayed  by  some  English  travellers  whom 
he  met  upon  the  road. 

plaining  of  him  to  his  ordinary,  the  archbishop  of  Rouen.  Upon 
summons,  he  appears  :  the  archbishop  takes  him  up  roundly,  tells 
him  he  deserves  deprivation,  if  that  can  be  proved  which  is  objected 
against  him,  and  asked^  him  what  he  had  to  say  for  himself.  After 
his  due  reverence,  he  answers,  that  he  acknowledges  the  fact,  to  save 
the  time  of  examining  witnesses ;  but  desires  his  grace  to  hear  his 
reasons,  and  then  do  unto  him  as  he  shall  see  cause.  '  I  have,' 
says  he,  '  been  curate  of  this  parish  seven  years  ;  in  that  time  I  have, 
one  year  with  another,  baptized  a  hundred  children,  and  buried  not 
one.  At  first  I  rejoiced  at  my  good  fortune  to  be  placed  in  so  good 
an  air ;  but,  looking  into  the  register-book,  I  found,  for  a  hundred 
years  back,  near  the  same  number  yearly  baptized,  and  no  one  above 
five  years  old  buried;  and  which  did  more  amaze  me,  I  find  the 
number  of  communicants  to  be  no  greater  now  than  they  were  th<:n. 
This  seemed  to  me  a  great  mystery ;  but,  upon  farther  inquiry,  I 
found  out  the  true  cause  of  it  ;  for  all  that  were  born  at  Domfront. 
were  hanged  at  Rouen.  I  did  this  to  keep  my  parishioners  from 
hanging,  encouraging  them  to  die  at  home,  the  burial  duties  being 
already  paid.' 

u  The  archbishop  demanded  of  the  parishioners  whether  this  was 
true  or  not.  They  answered,  that  too  many  of  them  came  to  that 
anlucky  end  at  Rouen.  '  Well,  then,'  says  he,  '  1  approve  of  what  tne 
curate  has  done,  and  will  eause  my  secretary,  in  perpetuam  rei  menu* 
riam,  to  make  an  act  of  it ;'  which  act  the  curate  carried  home  with 
him,  and  the  parish  cheerfully  submitted  to  it,  and  have  found  much 
good  by  it ;  for  within  less  than  twenty  years,  there  died  fifteen  of 
natural  deaths,  and  now  there  die  three  or  four  yearly." 


CLAUDE  DU  VALL.  9 

Arrived  at  Paris,  he  continued  at  the  same  inn  where 
the  Englishmen  put  up,  and  by  running  messages,  or 
performing  the  meanest  offices,  subsisted  for  a  while. 
He  continued  in  this  humble  station  until  the  resto- 
ration of  Charles  II.,  when  multitudes  from  the  con- 
tinent resorted  to  England.  In  the  character  of  a 
footman  to  a  person  of  quality,  Du  Vail  also  repaired 
to  England.  The  universal  joy  which  seized  the 
nation  upon  that  happy  event  contaminated  the  morals 
of  all  :  riot,  dissipation,  and  every  species  of  profligacy 
abounded.  The  young  and  sprightly  French  footman 
entered  keenly  into  these  amusements.  His  funds, 
however,  being  soon  exhausted,  he  deemed  it  no 
great  crime  for  a  Frenchman  to  exact  contributions 
from  the  English.  In  a  short  time,  he  became  so  dex- 
terous in  his  new  employment,  that  he  had  the  honor 
of  being  first  named  in  an  advertisement  issued  for 
the  apprehending  of  some  notorious  robbers. 

One  day,  Du  Vail  and  some  others  espied  a  knight 
and  his  lady  travelling  along  in  their  coach.  Seeing 
themselves  in  danger  of  being  attacked,  the  lady  re- 
sorted to  a  flageolet,  and  commenced  playing,  which 
she  did  very  dexterously.  Du  Vail  taking  the  hint, 
pulled  one  out  of  his  pocket,  began  to  play,  and  in 
this  posture  approached  the  coach.  "Sir,"  said  he  to 
the  knight,  "your  lady  performs  excellently,  and  I 
make  no  doubt  she  dances  well;  will  you  step  out 
of  the  coach,  and  let  us  have  the  honor  to  dance  a 
courant  with  her  upon  the  heath  ?"  "I  dare  not  deny 
any  thing,  sir,"  replied  the  knight  readily,  "  to  a  gen- 
tleman of  your  quality  and  good  behavior ;  you  seem 
a  man  of  generosity,  and  your  request  is  perfectly 
reasonable."  Immediately  the  footman  opened  the 
door,  and  the  knight  came  out.  Du  Vail  leaped  lightly 
off  his  horse,  and  handed  the  lady  down.  It  was 
surprising  to  see  how  gracefully  he  moved  upon  the 
grass  :  scarcely  a  dancing-master  in  London  but  would 
have  been  proud  to  have  shown  such  agility  in  a  pair 
of  pumps,  as  Du  Vail  evinced  in  a  pair  of  French 
riding-boots.      As   soon  as    the   dance   was   over,    he 


10  LIVES  OF  Hier^/YMEN  A.ND  ROBBER*. 

handed  the  lady  to  the  ^oich,  bu+  just  as  tr.<s  ki.i^ht 
was  stepping  in,  "  Sir,"  said  he,  u  you  fchget  to  pa* 
the  music."     His  worship  replied,  that  he  never  forgo* 
such  things,  and  instantly  put  his  hand  under  the  sea* 
of  the  coach,  pulled  out  one  hundred  pounds  in  a  bag 
which  he  delivered  to  Du  Vail,  who  received  it  witb 
a  very  good  grace,  and  courteously  answered,   "  Sir 
you  are  liberal,  and  shall  have  no  cause  to  regret  you* 
generosity;  this  hundred  pounds,  given  so  handsomely 
is  better  than  ten  times  the  sum  taken  by  force.     Yoiu 
noble  behavior  has  excused  you  the  other  three  hun 
dred  pounds  which  you  have  in  the  coach  with  you.' 
After  this,  he  gave  him  his  word  that  he  might  pas? 
undisturbed,  if  he  met  any  other  of  his  crew,  and  then 
wished  them  a  good  journey. 

At  another  time,  Du  Vail  and  some  of  his  associate* 
met  a  coach  upon  Blackheath,  full  of  ladies,  and  » 
child  with  them.  One  of  the  gang  rode  up  to  th* 
coach,  and  in  a  rude  manner  robbed  the  ladies  of  thei» 
watches  and  rings,  and  even  seized  a  silver  sucking 
bottle  of  the  child's.  The  infant  cried  bitterly  for  it** 
bottle,  and  the  ladies  earnestly  entreated  he  would 
only  return  that  article  to  the  child,  which  he  bar- 
barously refused.  Du  Vail  went  forward  to  discover 
what  detained  his  accomplice,  and,  the  ladies  re- 
newing their  entreaties  to  him,  he  instantly  threatened 
to  shoot  his  companion,  unless  he  returned  that  article, 
saying,  "  Sirrah,  can  't  you  behave  like  a  gentleman 
and  raise  a  contribution  without  stripping  people?  but, 
perhaps,  you  had  some  occasion  for  the  sucking-bottle, 
for,  by  your  actions,  one  would  imagine  you  were 
hardly  weaned."  This  smart  reproof  had  the  desired 
effect,  and  Du  Vail,  in  a  courteous  manner,  took  his 
leave  of  the  ladies. 

One  day  Du  Vail  met  Roper,  master  of  the  hounds 
to  Charles  II.,  who  was  hunting  in  Windsor  Forest ; 
and,  taking  the  advantage  of  a  thicket,  demanded 
his  money,  or  he  would  instantly  take  his  life.  Roper, 
without  hesitation,  gave  him  his  purse,  containing  at 
least  fifty  guineas :  in  return  for  which,  Du  Vail  bound 


CLAUDE  Dl    >iLL.  11 

him  u±ck  and  heel,  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree  beside 
him,  and  rode  across  the  country. 

It  was  a  considerable  time  before  the  huntsmen 
discovered  their  master.  The  squire,  being  at  length 
released,  made  all  possible  haste  to  Windsor,  unwilling 
to  venture  himself  into  any  more  thickets  for  that 
day,  whatever  might  be  the  fortune  of  the  hunt. 
Entering  the  town,  he  was  accosted  by  Sir  Stephen 
Fox,  who  inquired  if  he  had  had  any  sport.  "  Sport  I" 
replied  Roper,  in  a  great  passion,  "yes,  sir,  I  have 
had  sport  enough  from  a  villain  who  made  me  pay 
full  dear  for  it;  he  bound  me  neck  and  heels,  con- 
trary to  my  desire,  and  then  took  fifty  guineas  from 
me  to  pay  him  for  his  labor,  which  I  had  much  rather 
he  had  omitted." 

England  now  became  too  contracted  a  sphere  for 
the  talents  of  our  adventurer ;  and,  in  consequence  of  a 
proclamation  issued  for  his  detection,  and  his  notoriety 
in  the  kingdom,  Du  Vail  retired  to  his  native  country. 
At  Paris  he  lived  in  a  very  extravagant  style,  and 
carried  on  war  with  rich  travellers  and  fair  ladies, 
and  proudly  boasted  that  he  was  equally  successful 
with  both :  but  his  warfare  with  the  latter  was  infi- 
nitely  more  agreeable,  though  much  less  profitable, 
than  with  the  former. 

There  is  one  adventure  of  Du  Vail  at  Paris,  which 
we  shall  lay  before  our  readers.  There  was  in  that 
city  a  learned  Jesuit,  confessor  to  the  French  king, 
who  had  rendered  himself  eminent,  both  by  his  politics 
and  his  avarice.  His  thirst  for  money  was  insatiable, 
and  increased  with  his  riches.  Du  Vail  devised  the 
following  plan  to  obtain  a  share  of  the  immense  wealth 
of  this  pious  father. 

To  facilitate  his  admittance  into  the  Jesuit's  com- 
pany, he  dressed  himself  as  a  scholar,  and,  waiting  a 
favorable  opportunity,  went  up  to  him  very  confidently, 
and  addressed  him  as  follows:  "  May  it  please  your 
reverence,  I  am  a  poor  scholar,  who  have  been  several 
years  travelling  over  strange  countries,  to  learn  expe- 
rience in  the  sciences,  principally  to  serve  mine  own 


12  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

country,  for  whose  advantage  I  am  determined  to  apply 
my  knowledge,  if  I  may  be  favored  with  the  patronage 
of  a  man  so  eminent  as  yourself."  "  And  what  may 
this  knowledge  of  yours  be?"  replied  the  father,  very 
much  pleased.  "  If  you  will  communicate  any  thing 
to  me  that  may  be  beneficial  to  France,  I  assure  you, 
no  proper  encouragement  shall  be  wanting  on  my  side." 
Du  Vail,  upon  this,  growing  bolder,  proceeded :  "  Sir, 
I  have  spent  most  of  my  time  in  the  study  of  alchymy, 
or  the  transmutation  of  metals,  and  have  profited  so 
much  at  Rome  and  Venice,  from  great  men  learned 
in  that  science,  that  I  can  change  several  metals  into 
gold,  by  the  help  of  a  philosophical  powder  which  T 
can  prepare  very  speedily." 

The  father  confessor  was  more  elated  with  this 
communication  than  all  the  discoveries  he  had  obtained 
in  the  way  of  his  profession,  and  his  knowledge  even 
of  his  royal  penitent's  most  private  secrets  gave  him 
less  delight  than  the  prospect  of  immense  riches  which 
now  burst  upon  his  avaricious  mind.  "  Friend,"  said 
he,  "  such  a  thing  as  this  will  be  serviceable  to  the 
whole  state,  and  particularly  grateful  to  the  king,  who, 
as  his  affairs  go  at  present,  stands  in  great  need  of 
such  a  curious  invention.  But  you  must  let  me  see 
some  proof  of  your  skill,  before  I  credit,  what  you 
say,  so  far  as  to  communicate  it  to  his  majesty,  who 
will  sufficiently  reward  you,  if  what  you  promise  be 
demonstrated."  Upon  this,  the  confessor  conducted 
Du  Vail  to  his  house,  and  furnished  him  with  money 
to  erect  a  laboratory,  and  to  purchase  such  other 
materials  as  were  requisite,  in  order  to  proceed  in  this 
invaluable  operation,  charging  him  to  keep  the  secret 
from  every  living  soul.  Utensils  being  fixed,  and 
every  thing  in  readiness,  the  Jesuit  came  to  witness 
the  wonderful  operation.  Du  Vail  took  several  metals 
and  minerals  of  the  basest  sort,  and  put  them  in  a 
crucible,  his  reverence  viewing  every  one  as  he  put 
them  in.  Our  alchymist  had  prepared  a  hollow  tube, 
into  which  he  conveyed  several  sprigs  of  real  gold; 
with    this    seeming    stick    he   stirred    the   operation, 


\ 


CLAUDE  DU  VALL..  13 

which,  with  its  heat,  melted  the  gold,  and-  the  tube 
at  the  same  time,  so  that  it  sank  imperceptibly  •  into 
the  vessel.  When  the  excessive  fire  had  cons^piQcLall 
the  different  materials  which  he  had  put  in,  the  golid 
remained  pure,  to  the  quantity  of  an  ounce  and  a  half. 
This  the  Jesuit  ordered  to  be  examined,  and,  ascer- 
taining that  it  was  actually  pure  gold,  he  became  de-" 
voted  to  Du  Yail,  and,  blinded  with  the  prospect  of' 
future  advantage,  credited  every  thing  our  impostor 
said,  furnishing  him  with  whatever  he  demanded,  in 
hopes  of  being  made  master  of  this  extraordinary 
secret.  Thus  were  our  alchymist  and  Jesuit,  according 
to  the  old  saying,  as  "  great  as  two  pick-pockets." 
Du  Vail  was  a  professed  robber ;  and  what  is  a  court 
favorite  but  a  picker  of  the  people's  pockets  ?  So 
that  it  was  two  sharpers  endeavoring  to  outsharp  one 
another.  The  confessor  was  as  candid  as  Du  Vail 
could  wish ;  he  showed  him  all  his  treasures,  and 
several  rich  jewels  which  he  had  received  from  the 
king;  hoping,  by  these  obligations,  to  incline  him  to 
discover  his  wonderful  secrets  with  more  alacrity.  In 
short,  he  became  so  importunate,  that  Du  Vail  was 
apprehensive  of  too  minute  an  inquiry,  if  he  denied 
the  request  any  longer  :  he  therefore  appointed  a  day 
when  the  whole  was  to  be  disclosed.  In  the  mean 
time,  he  took  an  opportunity  of  stealing  into  the 
chamber  where  the  riches  were  deposited,  and  where 
his  reverence  generally  slept  after  dinner  ;  finding 
him  in  deep  repose,  he  gently  bound  him,  then  took 
his  keys,  and  unhoarded  as  much  of  his  wealth  as 
he  could  carry  off  unsuspected;  after  which,  he  quickly 
took  leave  of  him  and  France. 

It  is  uncertain  how  long  Du  Vail  continued  his  depre- 
dations after  his  return  to  England ;  but  we  are  informed, 
that  in  a  fit  of  intoxication  he  was  detected  at  the 
Hole-in-the-Wall,  in  Chandos  street,  committed  to 
Newgate,  convicted,  condemned,  and  executed  at  Ty- 
burn, in  the  twenty-seventh  year  of  his  age,  on  the  1st 
of  January  1669 :  and  so  much  had  his  gallantries 
and  handsome  figure  rendered  him  the  favorite  of  the 
B 


14  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

fair  sex,  that  many  a  bright  eye  was  dimmed  at  his 
funeral;  his  corpse  was  bedewed  with  the  tears  of 
beauty,  and  his  actions  and  death  were  celebrated  by 
the  immortal  author  of  the  inimitable  Hudibras.  He 
was  buried  with  many  flambeaux,  amidst  a  numerous 
train  of  mourners,  (most  of  them  ladies,)  in  the  middle 
aisle  of  the  church  in  Covent  Garden. 


SAWNEY  BEANE. 

The  following  narrative  presents  such  a  picture  of 
human  barbarity,  that,  were  it  not  attested  by  the 
most  unquestionable  historical  evidence,  it  would  be 
rejected  as  altogether  fabulous  and  incredible. 

Sawney  Beane  was  born  in  the  county  of  East  Lo- 
thian, about  eight  miles  east  of  Edinburgh,  in  the  reign 
of  James  I.  of  Scotland.  His  father  was  a  hedger  and 
ditcher,  and  brought  up  his  son  to  the  same  laborious 
employment.  Naturally  idle  and  vicious,  he  aban- 
doned that  place  in  company  with  a  young  woman 
equally  idle  and  profligate,  and  retired  to  the  deserts 
of  Galloway,  where  they  took  up  their  habitation  by 
the  sea-side.  The  place  which  Sawney  and  his  wife 
selected  for  their  dwelling  was  a  cave  of  about  a  mile 
in  length,  and  of  considerable  breadth,  so  near  the  sea, 
that  the  tide  often  penetrated  into  the  cave  above  two 
hundred  yards.  The  entry  had  many  intricate  wind- 
ings and  turnings,  leading  to  the  extremity  of  the 
subterraneous  dwelling,  which  was  literally  "  the  habi- 
tation of  horrid  cruelty." 

Sawney  and  his  wife  took  shelter  in  this  cave,  and 
commenced  their  depredations.  To  prevent  the  possi- 
bility of  detection,  they  murdered  every  person  they 
robbed.  Destitute  also  of  the  means  of  obtaining  any 
other  food,  they  resolved  to  live  upon  human  flesh. 
Accordingly,  when  they  had  murdered  any  man,  wo- 


SAWNEY  BEANE.  15 

man,  or  child,  they  carried  them  to  their  den,  quartered 
them,  salted  the  limbs,  and  dried  them  for  food.  In 
this  manner  they  lived,  carrying  on  their  depredations 
and  murder,  until  they  had  eight  sons  and  six  daugh- 
ters, eighteen  grandsons  and  fourteen  granddaughters, 
all  the  offspring  of  incest. 

But  though  they  soon  became  numerous,  yet  such 
was  the  multitude  which  fell  into  their  hands,  that 
they  had  often  superabundance  of  provisions,  and 
would,  at  a  distance  from  their  own  habitation,  throw 
legs  and  arms  of  dried  human  bodies  into  the  sea  by 
night.  These  were  often  cast  out  by  the  tide,  and 
taken  up  by  the  country  people,  to  the  great  consterna- 
tion and  dismay  of  all  the  surrounding  inhabitants. 
Nor  could  any  one  discover  what  had  befallen  the 
many  friends,  relations,  and  neighbors  who  had  unfor- 
tunately fallen  into  the  hands  of  these  merciless  can- 
nibals. 

In  proportion  as  Sawney's  family  increased,  every 
one  that  was  able  acted  his  part  in  these  horrid  assas- 
sinations. They  would  sometimes  attack  four  or  six 
men  on  foot,  but  never  more  than  two  upon  horseback. 
To  prevent  the  possibility  of  escape,  they  would  lie  in 
ambush  in  every  direction,  that  if  they  escaped  those 
who  first  attacked,  they  might  be  assailed  with  re- 
newed fury  by  another  party,  and  inevitably  murdered. 
By  this  means  they  always  secured  their  prey,  and 
prevented  detection. 

At  last,  however,  the  vast  number  who  were  slain 
roused  the  inhabitants  of  the  country,  and  all  the 
woods  and  lurking-places  were  carefully  searched ; 
yet,  though  they  often  passed  by  the  mouth  of  the 
horrible  den,  it  was  never  once  suspected  that  any 
human  being  resided  there.  In  this  state  of  uncertainty 
and  suspense  concerning  the  authors  of  such  frequent 
massacres,  several  innocent  travellers  and  innkeepers 
were  taken  up  on  suspicion,  because  the  persons  who 
were  missing  had  been  seen  last  in  their  company,  or 
had  last  resided  at  their  houses.  The  effect  of  this 
well-meant  and  severe  justice  constrained  the  greater 


16  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

part  of  the  innkeepers  in  those  parts  to  abandon  such 
employments,  to  the  great  inconvenience  of  those  who 
travelled  through  that  district. 

Meanwhile,  the  country  became  depopulated,  and 
the  whole  nation  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  nu- 
merous and  unheard-of  villanies  and  cruelties  that  were 
perpetrated,  without  the  slightest  clue  to  the  discovery 
of  the  abominable  actors.  At  length  Providence  inter- 
posed in  the  following  manner  to  terminate  the  horrible 
scene.  One  evening,  a  man  and  his  wife  were  riding 
home  upon  the  same  horse  from  a  fair  which  had  been 
held  in  the  neighborhood,  and,  being  attacked,  the 
husband  made  a  most  vigorous  resistance :  his  wife, 
however,  was  dragged  from  behind  him,  carried  to  a 
little  distance,  and  her  entrails  instantly  taken  out. 
Struck  with  grief  and  horror,  the  husband  continued 
to  redouble  his  efforts  to  escape,  and  even  trod  some 
of  the  assassins  down  under  his  horse's  feet.  Fortu- 
nately for  him,  and  for  the  inhabitants  of  that  part  of 
the  country,  in  the  mean  time,  twenty  or  thirty  in  a 
company  came  riding  home  from  the  fair.  Upon  their 
approach,  Sawney  and  his  bloody  crew  fled  into  a 
thick  wood,  and  hastened  to  their  infernal  den. 

This  man,  who  was  the  first  that  had  ever  escaped 
out  of  their  hands,  related  to  his  neighbors  what  had 
happened,  and  showed  them  the  mangled  body  of  his 
wife  lying  at  a  distance,  the  bloodthirsty  wretches  not 
having  time  to  carry  it  along  with  them.  They  were  all 
struck  with  astonishment  and  horror,  took  him  with 
them  to  Glasgow,  and  reported  the  whole  adventure  to 
the  chief  magistrate  of  the  city,  who,  upon  this  infor- 
mation, instantly  wrote  to  the  king,  informing  him  of 
the  matter. 

In  a  few  days,  his  majesty  in  person,  accompanied 
by  four  hundred  men,  went  in  quest  of  the  perpetra- 
tors of  these  horrible  cruelties.  The  man,  whose  wife 
had  been  murdered  before  his  eyes,  went  as  their 
guide,  with  a  great  number  of  bloodhounds,  that  no 
possible  means  might  be  left  unattempted  to  discover 
the  haunt  of  such  execrable  villains. 


SAWNEY  /5EANE.  '  1.7 

They  searched  the  woods,  and  traversed  and  exa- 
mined the  sea-shore ;  but,  though  they  passed  by  the 
entrance  into  their  cave,  they  had  no  suspicion  that 
any  creature  resided  in  that  dark  and  dismal  abode. 
Fortunately,  however,  some  of  the  bloodhounds  en- 
tered the  cave,  raising  an  uncommon  barking  and 
noise,  an  indication  that  they  were  about  to  seize  their 
prey.  The  king  and  his  men  returned,  but  could 
scarcely  conceive  how  any  human  being  could  reside 
in  a  place  of  utter  darkness,  and  where  the  entrance 
was  difficult  and  narrow ;  but,  as  the  bloodhounds  in- 
creased in  their  vociferation,  and  refused  to  return,  it 
occurred  to  all  that  the  cave  ought  to  be  explored  to 
the  extremity.  Accordingly,  a  sufficient  number  of 
torches  was  provided ;  the  hounds  were  permitted  to 
pursue  their  course;  a  great  number  of  men  penetrated 
through  all  the  intricacies  of  the  path,  and  at  length 
arrived  at  the  private  residence  of  the  horrible  can- 
nibals. 

They  were  followed  by  all  the  band,  who  were 
shocked  to  behold  a  sight  unequalled  in  Scotland,  if  not 
in  any  part  of  the  universe.  Legs,  arms,  thighs,  hands, 
and  feet,  of  men,  women,  and  children,  were  suspended 
in  rows  like  dried  beef.  Some  limbs  and  other  mem- 
bers were  soaked  in  pickle;  while  a  great  mass  of 
money,  both  of  gold  and  silver,  watches,  rings,  pistols, 
clothes,  both  linen  and  woollen,  with  an  immense 
quantity  of  other  articles,  were  either  thrown  together 
in  heaps,  or  suspended  upon  the  sides  of  the  cave. 

The  whole  cruel,  brutal  family,  to  the  number  for- 
merly mentioned,  were  seized;  the  human  flesh  buried 
in  the  sand  of  the  sea-shore ;  the  immense  booty  car- 
ried away,  and  the  king  marched  to  Edinburgh  with 
the  prisoners.  This  new  and  wretched  spectacle  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  inhabitants,  who  flocked 
from  all  quarters  to  see,  as  they  passed  along,  so  bloody 
and  unnatural  a  family,  which  had  increased,  in  the 
space  of  twenty-five  years,  to  the  number  of  twenty- 
seven  men  and  twenty-one  women.  Arrived  in  the 
capital,  they  were  all  confined  in  the  Tclbooth  under 


18  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

a  strong  guard,  and  were  next  day  conducted  to  the 
common  place  of  execution  in  Leith  Walk,  and  exe- 
cuted without  any  formal  trial,  it  being  deemed  unne- 
cessary to  try  those  who  were  avowed  enemies  of  all 
mankind,  and  of  all  social  order. 

The  enormity  of  their  crimes  dictated  the  severity 
of  their  death.  The  men  had  their  entrails  thrown 
into  the  fire,  their  hands  and  legs  were  severed  from 
their  bodies,  and  they  were  permitted  to  bleed  to  death. 
The  wretched  mother  of  the  whole  crew,  the  daugh- 
ters, and  grandchildren,  after  being  spectators  of  the 
death  of  the  men,  were  cast  into  three  separate  fires, 
and  consumed  to  ashes.  Nor  did  they,  in  general, 
display  any  signs  of  repentance  or  regret,  but  continued, 
with  their  last  breath,  to  pour  forth  the  most  dreadful 
curses  and  imprecations  upon  all  around,  and  upon 
those  who  were  instrumental  in  consigning  them  to  the 
hands  of  a  tardy  but  a  certain  and  inevitable  justice. 


THOMAS  WYNNE. 

This  notorious  criminal  was  born  at  Ipswich,  where 
he  continued  till  he  was  between  fifteen  and  sixteen, 
and  then  went  to  sea.  Nine  years  after,  coming  to 
London,  and  associating  with  loose  company,  especially 
with  women  of  the  most  infamous  character,  he  left  no 
villainy  undone  for  the  support  of  himself  and  them  in 
their  extravagances,  till  at  last  he  became  so  expert  in 
house-breaking  and  all  sorts  of  theft,  that  he  was 
esteemed  the  most  remarkable  villain  of  his  time. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  queen  Elizabeth  that  our  artist 
flourished  :  accordingly,  we  find  that  he  had  the  bold- 
ness to  rob  the  royal  lodgings  at  Whitehall  palace  of 
plate  to  the  amount  of  400/.  for  which  he  was  taken 
and  committed  to  Newgate.  But  fortunately  for  him, 
her  majesty's  act  of  grace  coming  out,  granting  a  free 


THOMAS    WYNNE.  19 

pardon  for  all  offences  except  murder,  treason,  and 
other  notorious  crimes,  he  was  allowed  the  benefit  of 
that  act,  and  thus  obtained  his  liberty.  But  neither  the 
royal  clemency,  nor  the  imminent  danger  to  which  he 
had  been  exposed,  had  any  effect  upon  the  obdurate 
heart  of  Wynne ;  for,  pursuing  his  villanies,  he  was 
soon  constrained  to  hire  himself  as  under  servant  in 
the  kitchen,  to  the  earl  of  Salisbury,  to  avoid  detection. 
While  he  was  in  this  post,  he  had  the  audacity  to  make 
love  to  the  countess's  woman,  who,  astonished  at  such 
insolence  in  a  fellow  of  his  rank,  returned  his  addresses 
with  the  greatest  contempt.  This  exasperated  Wynne 
so  much,  that  his  pretended  love  turned  to  hatred,  and 
he  vowed  revenge.  He  embraced  an  opportunity,  and 
used  her  in  a  very  brutal  manner,  until  she  was  under 
the  necessity  of  calling  to  the  other  servants  for  assist- 
ance. The  poor  woman  took  to  her  bed,  and  remained 
very  unwell  for  some  time.  The  master,  informed  of 
this  shocking  piece  of  cruelty,  ordered  Wynne  to  be 
whipped  by  the  coachman,  and  the  same  to  be  repeated 
once  a  week  during  a  month.  Though  Wynne  was 
happy  in  having  satiated  his  vengeance  upon  the  woman 
who  had  contemptuously  spurned  his  addresses,  yet  he 
was  not  very  much  in  love  with  the  reward  assigned 
him  by  his  master;  therefore,  robbing  the  coachman  of 
nine  pounds,  borrowing  fifteen  pounds  of  the  master- 
cook,  carrying  off  a  silver  cup  of  the  master's,  and  all 
the  best  clothes  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  so  greatly 
injured,  he  went  in  quest  of  new  adventures. 

At  that  time  innkeepers  were  not  so  active  as  now ; 
Wynne  therefore  often  dressed  himself  in  the  garb  of  a 
porter,  and  carried  off  parcels  consigned  to  carriers,  and 
continued  undetected  in  this  practice,  until  he  had 
acquired  about  two  hundred  pounds,  for  which  the 
different  carriers  had  to  pay  through  their  neglect. 
Taught  by  experience,  however,  they  began  to  look 
better  after  the  goods  entrusted  to  their  care,  so  that 
Wynne  had  to  turn  to  a  new  employment. 

One  day,  hearing  a  man  inform  his  wife,  as  he  was 
going  out,  that  it  would  be  five  or  six  hours  before 


20  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

he  would  return,  he  followed  him  until  he  saw  him  go 
into  a  tavern ;  and,  after  getting  acquainted  with  the 
name  of  the  landlord,  he  went  back  to  the  man's  neigh- 
borhood, and  discovered  his  name  also.  Having  ob- 
tained this  intelligence,  he  goes  to  the  man's  wife,  and 
informs  her  that  her  husband  is  taken  suddenly  ill,  and 
wishes  to  see  her  before  his  death.  Upon  this  the  poor 
woman  cried  bitterly,  and,  after  giving  the  maid  orders 
to  take  care  of  the  house,  she  ran  off  with  this  pre- 
tended messenger  to  the  place  where  her  husband  was 
supposed  to  be  in  the  jaws  of  death. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  Wynne,  upon  pre- 
tence of  business  in  a  different  part  of  the  town,  left 
her  to  prosecute  her  journey, — returned  back  to  the 
house,  and  told  the  maid,  that  "  her  mistress  had  sent 
him  to  acquaint  her,  that  if  she  did  not  come  home  by 
such  an  hour,  she  might  go  to  bed,  for  she  should  not 
come  home  all  night."  Wynne  in  the  mean  time 
seeming  out  of  breath  with  haste,  the  maid  civilly  re- 
quested him  to  come  in  and  rest  himself.  This  ac- 
cording with  his  wishes,  he  immediately  complied,  and, 
when  the  maid  was  going  to  fetch  him  some  meat,  he 
suddenly  knocked  her  down,  bound  her  hand  and  foot, 
and  robbed  the  house  of  every  thing  he  could  carry 
off,  to  the  amount  of  200/. 

Wynne,  having  reigned  eight  years  in  his  villanies, 
formed  a  strong  desire  to  rob  a  linen-draper  who  had 
retired  from  business,  and  with  his  wife  was  living 
upon  the  fruits  of  his  industry.  He  accordingly  one 
evening  broke  into  their  house,  and,  to  prevent  disco- 
very, cut  both  their  throats  while  they  were  asleep, 
and  rifled  the  house  to  the  amount  of  2500/. ;  and,  to 
prevent  detection,  sailed  to  Virginia,  with  his  wife  and 
four  children. 

The  two  old  people  not  appearing  in  the  neighbor- 
hood next  day  as  usual,  and  the  doors  remaining 
locked,  the  neighbors  were  alarmed,  sent  for  a  consta- 
ble and  burst  open  the  doors,  when  they  found  them 
weltering  in  their  blood,  and  their  house  pillaged.  Dili- 
gent search  was  made,  and  a  poor  man,  who  begged 


THOMAS    WYNNE.  2* 

his  bread,  was  taken  up  on  suspicion,  because  he  had 
been  seen  about  the  doors,  and  sitting  upon  a  bench 
belonging  to  the  house  the  day  before :  and  although 
nothing  but  circumstantial  evidence  appeared  against 
him,  he  was  tried,  condemned,  and  executed  before  the 
door  of  the  house,  and  his  body  hung  in  chains  at 
Holloway. 

Meanwhile  Wynne,  the  murderer,  was  in  safety  in 
a  foreign  land.  It  also  happened,  that  by  the  price  of 
innocent  blood  he  prospered,  and  his  riches  greatly 
increased.  After  he  had  resided  twenty  years  in  Vir- 
ginia, where  his  family  became  numerous,  and  his 
riches  great,  he  resolved  to  visit  England  before  his 
death,  and  then  to  return  to  deposit  his  bones  in  a  fo- 
reign grave.  During  his  stay  in  London,  he  one  day 
went  into  a  goldsmith's  shop  in  Cheapside,  to  purchase 
some  plate  that  he  intended  to  take  home  with  him. 
It  happened,  while  the  goldsmith  was  weighing  the 
plate  which  Wynne  had  purchased,  that  an  uproar  took 
place  in  the  street,  occasioned  by  the  circumstance  of  a 
gentleman  running  off  from  certain  bailiffs  who  were 
conducting  him  to  prison.  Upon  this  Wynne  ran  also 
out  into  the  street,  and  hearing  somebody  behind  him 
crying  out,  "Stop  him!  stop  him!"  his  conscience  in- 
stantly awoke,  so  that  he  stopped,  and  exclaimed,  "  I 
am  the  man!"  "You  the  man!"  cried  the  people; 
"what  man?"  "The  man,"  replied  Wynne,  "that 
committed  such  a  murder  in  Honey  lane  twenty 
years  ago,  for  which  a  poor  man  was  hanged  wrong- 
fully !" 

Upon  this  confession  he  was  carried  before  a  magis- 
trate, to  whom  he  repeated  the  same  acknowledgment, 
and  was  committed  to  Newgate,  tried,  condemned,  and 
executed  before  the  house  where  he  perpetrated  the 
horrid  deed.  In  this  manner  the  justice  of  Heaven 
pursued  this  guilty  wretch  long  after  he  thought  him- 
self beyond  the  reach  of  punishment.  Justice  also 
overtook  his  family,  who  were  privy  to  his  guilt. 
Upon  the  intelligence  of  his  shameful  end,  his  wife 
immediately  became  deranged,  and  continued  so  to  her 


22  " 


I 


LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 


death.  Two  of  his  sons  were  hanged  in  Virginia  foi 
robbery,  and  the  whole  family  were  soon  reduced  to 
beggary. 


THOMAS  WITHERINGTON. 

This  person  was  the  son  of  a  worthy  gentleman  of 
Carlisle,  in  the  county  of  Cumberland,  who  possessed 
a  considerable  estate,  and  brought  up  his  children  suit- 
ably to  his  condition.  Thomas,  the  subject  of  this  me- 
moir, received  a  liberal  education,  as  his  father  intend- 
ed that  he  should  live  free  from  the  toil  and  hazard  of 
business.  The  father  dying,  Thomas  came  into  posses- 
sion of  the  estate,  which  soon  procured  him  a  rich  wife, 
who  afterwards  proved  the  chief  cause  of  his  ruin. 
She  was  loose  in  her  conduct,  and  violated  her  matri- 
monial obligations,  which  drove  him  from  his  house 
to  seek  happiness  in  the  tavern,  or  in  the  company  of 
abandoned  women.  These  by  degrees  perverted  all 
the  good  qualities  he  possessed ;  nor  was  his  estate  less 
subject  to  ruin  and  decay ;  for  the  mortgages  he  made 
on  it,  in  order  to  support  his  luxury  and  profusion,  soon 
reduced  his  circumstances  to  the  lowest  ebb.  Undisci- 
plined in  poverty,  how  could  a  man  of  his  late  affluent 
fortune,  and  unacquainted  with  business,  procure  a  main- 
tenance ?  He  was  possessed  of  too  independent  a  spi- 
rit to  stoop  either  to  relations  or  friends  for  a  precarious 
subsistence,  and  to  solicit  the  benevolence  of  his  fellow- 
men  was  what  his  soul  abhorred.  Starve  he  could 
not,  and  only  one  way  of  living  presented  itself  to  his 
choice — levying  contributions  on  the  road.  This  he 
followed  for  six  or  seven  years  with  tolerable  success ; 
and  we  shall  now  relate  a  few  of  his  most  remarkable 
adventures. 

Upon  his  first  outset  he  repaired  to  a  friend,  and  with 
a  grave  face  lamented  his  late  irregularities,  and  de- 


THOMAS    WITHEKINGTON.  23 

clared  his  determination  to  live  by  some  honest  means ; 
but  for  this  purpose  he  required  a  little  money  to  assist 
him  in  establishing  himself,  and  hoped  his  friend 
would  find  it  convenient  to  accommodate  him.  His 
friend  was  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  his  amend- 
ment and  willingly  lent  him  fifty  pounds,  with  as 
many  blessings  and  exhortations.  But  Witherington 
frustrated  the  expectations  of  his  friend,  and  with  the 
money  bought  himself  a  horse  and  other  necessaries  fit 
for  his  future  enterprises. 

One  night  he  stopped  at  Keswick  in  Cumberland, 
where  he  met  with  the  dean  of  Carlisle.  Being  equally 
learned,  they  found  each  other's  company  very  agreea- 
ble, and  Witherington  passed  himself  off  for  a  gentle- 
man who  had  just  returned  from  the  East  Indies  with 
a  handsome  competency,  and  was  returning  to  his 
friends  at  Carlisle,  among  whom  he  had  a  rich  uncle, 
who  had  lately  died  and  left  him  sole  heir  to  his  estate. 
11  True,"  said  the  dean,  "I  have  often  heard  of  a  rela- 
tion of  Mr.  Witherington' s  being  in  the  East  Indies; 
but  his  family,  1  can  assure  you,  have  received  repeated 
information  of  his  death,  and  what  prejudice  this  may 
have  done  to  your  affairs  at  Carlisle,  to-morrow  will  be 
the  best  witness."  The  dean  then  told  him  his  own  his- 
tory, and  concluded  in  these  words  : — "  And  I  am  now 
informed  that,  to*  support  his  extravagance,  Mr.  Wi- 
therington frequents  the  road,  and  takes  a  purse 
wherever  he  can  extort  it."  Our  adventurer  seemed 
greatly  hurt  at  this  account  of  his  cousin's  conduct, 
and  thanked  the  doctor  for  his  information.  Being 
both  fond  of  their  bottle,  they  spent  the  evening  very 
agreeably,  promising  to  travel  together  on  the  following 
day  to  Carlisle. 

Having  arrived  at  a  wood  on  the  road,  Witherington 
rode  close  up  to  the  dean,  and  whispered  into  his  ear, 
"  Sir,  though  the  place  at  which  we  now  are  is  private 
enough,  yet  willing  that  what  I  do  should  be  still  more 
private,  I  take  the  liberty  to  acquaint  you,  that  you 
have  something  about  you  that  Avill  do  me  an  infinite 
piece  of  service." — u  What 's  that?"  answered  the  doc- 


24  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

tor;  "  you  shall  have  it  with  all  my  heart." — "  I  thank 
you  for  your  civility,"  said  Witherington.  "Well 
then,  to  be  plain,  the  money  in  your  breeches-pocket 
will  be  very  serviceable  to  me  at  the  present  moment." 
• — "Money!"  rejoined  the  doctor;  "sir,  you  cannot 
want  money;  your  garb  and  person  both  tell  me  you 
are  in  no  want." — "Ay,  but  I  am;  for  the  ship  in 
which  I  came  over  happened  to  be  wrecked,  so  that  I 
have  lost  all  I  brought  from  India ;  and  I  would  not 
enter  Carlisle  for  the  whole  world  without  money  in 
my  pocket." — "  Friend,  I  may  urge  the  same  plea,  and 
say  I  would  not  go  into  that  city  without  money  for 
the  world ;  but  what  then  ?  If  you  are  Mr.  Wither- 
ington's  nephew,  as  you  pretend  to  be,  you  would  not 
thus  peremptorily  demand  money  of  me,  for  at  Carlisle 
your  friends  will  supply  you;  and  if  you  have  none 
now,  I  will  bear  your  expenses  to  that  place." — "Sir," 
said  Witherington,  "  the  question  is  not  whether  I  have 
money  or  not,  but  concerning  that  which  is  in  your 
pocket ;  for,  as  you  say,  my  cousin  is  obliged  to  take 
purses  on  the  road,  and  so  am  I ;  so  that  if  I  take 
yours,  you  may  ride  to  Carlisle,  and  say  that  Mr.  Wi- 
therington met  you  and  demanded  your  charity."  Af- 
ter a  good  deal  of  expostulation,  the  dean,  terrified  at 
the  sight  of  a  pistol,  delivered  to  Witherington  a  purse 
containing  fifty  guineas,  before  he  pursued  his  journey 
to  Carlisle,  and  our  adventurer  set  off  in  search  of  more 
prey. 

Witherington  being  at  Newcastle,  put  up  at  an  inn 
where  some  commissioners  were  to  meet  that  day,  to 
make  choice  of  a  schoolmaster  for  a  neighboring  pa- 
rish. The  salary  being  very  handsome,  many  spruce 
young  clergymen  and  students  appeared  as  competi- 
tors :  and,  being  possessed  of  sufficient  qualifications, 
Witherington  bethought  him  of  standing  a  candidate, 
for  which  purpose  he  borrowed  coarse,  plain  clothes 
from  the  landlord,  to  make  his  appearance  correspond 
with  the  conduct  he  meant  to  pursue.  Repairing  to 
the  kitchen,  and  sitting  down  by  the  fire,  he  called  for 
a  mug  of  ale,  putting  on  a  very  dejected  countenance. 


.     THOMAS    WITJ3ERINGTON.  25 

One  of  the  freeholders  who  came  to  vote,  observing  him 
as  he  stood  warming  himself  by  the  fire,  was  taken 
with  his  countenance,  and  entered  into  conversation 
with  him.  He  very  modestly  let  the  freeholder  know 
that  he  had  come  with  the  intention  of  standing  a  can- 
didate, but  when  he  saw  so  many  gay  young  men  as 
competitors,  and  fearing  that  every  thing  would  be 
carried  by  interest,  he  resolved  to  return  home.  "  Nay," 
replied  the  honest  freeholder,  "  as  long  as  I  have  a  vote, 
justice  shall  be  done ;  and  never  fear,  for  egad,  I  say, 
merit  shall  have  the  place,  and  if  thou  be  found  the 
best  scholar,  thou  shalt  certainly  have  it;  and  to  show 
you  I  am  sincere,  I  now,  though  you  are  a  stranger  to 
me,  promise  you  my  vote,  and  my  interest  likewise.' ' 
Witherington  thanked  him  for  his  civility,  and  con- 
sented to  wait  for  the  trial.  A  keen  contest  took  place 
between  two  of  the  most  successful  candidates,  when 
our  adventurer  was  introduced  as  a  man  who  had  so 
much  modesty  as  to  make  him  fearful  of  appearing 
before  so  great  an  assembly,  but  who  nevertheless 
wished  to  be  examined.  He  confronted  the  two  oppo- 
nents, and  exposed  their  ignorance  to  the  trustees,  who 
were  all  astonished  at  the  stranger.  He  showed  it 
was  not  a  number  of  Greek  and  Latin  sentences  that 
constituted  a  good  scholar,  but  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  nature  of  the  book  which  he  read,  and  the  abi- 
lity to  discover  the  design  of  the  author.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  Witherington  was  installed  into  the  office 
with  all  the  usual  formalities. 

Conducting  himself  with  much  moderation  and  hu- 
mility, the  churchwardens  of  the  parish  took  a  great 
fancy  to  him,  and  made  him  overseer  and  tax-gatherer 
to  the  parish;  and  the  rector  likewise  committed  to 
his  care  the  collection  of  his  rents  and  tithes.  This 
friendly  disposition  towards  Witherington  extended 
itself  over  the  parish,  and  never  was  a  man  believed  to 
be  more  honest  or  industrious.  Of  the  latter  qualifi- 
cation, we  must  say,  in  this  instance,  he  showed  himself 
possessed ;  but  of  the  former  he  had  never  any  notion. 
His  opinion  had  great  weight  with  the  heads  of  the 
C 


26  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

parish,  and  he  proposed  the  erection  of  a  new  school- 
house,  and  for  this  purpose  offered,  himself,  to  sink  a 
year's  salcry  towards  a  subscription.  It  was  willingly 
agreed  to,  and  contributions  came  in  from  all  quarters, 
and  a  sum  exceeding  700/.  was  speedily  raised.  The 
mind  of  Witherington  was  now  big  with  hope,  but, 
being  discovered  by  two  gentlemen  who  had  come  from 
Carlisle,  he  made  off  with  all  the  subscriptions  and  funds 
in  his  possession,  leaving  the  parish  to  reflect  upon  the 
honesty  of  their  schoolmaster  and  their  own  credulity. 

He  went  to  Buckinghamshire,  and,  being  at  ai  inn 
in  the  county  town,  fell  into  the  company  of  some  far- 
mers, who,  he  discovered,  had  come  to  meet  their  land- 
lord with  their  rents.  They  were  all  tenants  of  the 
same  proprietor,  and  poured  out  many  complaints 
against  him  for  his  harshness  and  injustice,  in  not  al- 
lowing some  deduction  from  their  rents,  or  time  after 
quarter-day,  when  they  met  with  severe  losses  from 
bad  weather  or  other  causes.  He  learned  that  this 
landlord  was  very  rich,  and  so  miserly  that  he  denied 
himself  even  the  necessaries  of  life;  our  adventurer, 
therefore,  determined,  if  possible,  to  rifle  him  before  he 
parted. 

The  landlord  soon  arrived,  and  the  company  were 
shown  into  a  private  room;  Witherington,  upon  pre- 
tence of  being  a  friend  of  one  of  the  farmers,  and  a 
lawyer,  accompanied  them.  He  requested  a  sight  of 
the  last  receipts,  and  examined  them  with  great  care, 
and  then  addressing  the  landlord,  "Sir,"  said  he,  "  these 
honest  men,  my  friends,  have  been  your  tenants  for  a 
long  time,  and  have  paid  their  rents  very  regularly ; 
but  why  they  should  be  so  fond  of  your  farms  at  so 
high  a  rent  I  am  unable  to  comprehend,  when  they 
may*  get  other  lands  much  cheaper;  and  that  you 
should  be  so  unreasonable  as  not  to  allow  a  reduction 
in  their  rents  in  a  season  like  this,  when  they  must 
lose  instead  of  gaining  by  their  farms.  It  is  /oui 
duty,  sir,  to  encourage  them,  and  not  to  grind  them  so 
unmercifully,  else  they  will  soon  be  obliged  to  leave 
your  farms  altogether."     The  landlord  endeavored  to 


THOMAS    WITHERINGTON.  27 

argue  the  point ;  and  the  farmers  seeing  the  drift  of 
Witherington,  refrained  from  interfering.  l<  It  is  unne- 
cessary," resumed  Witherington,  "  to  have  more  parley- 
about  it;  I  insist,  on  behalf  of  my  friends  here,  that 
you  remit  them  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  the 
three  hundred  you  expect  them  to  pay  you,  for  I  am 
told  you  have  more  than  enough  to  support  yourself  and 
family."  "  Not  a  sous,"  replied  the  landlord.  "  We'll 
try  that  presently.  But  pray,  sir,  take  your  pen,  ink, 
and  paper,  in  the  mean  time,  and  write  out  their  re- 
ceipts, and  the  money  shall  be  forthcoming  immediate- 
ly." "  Not  a  letter,  till  the  money  is  in  my  hands." 
"It  must  be  so,  then,"  answered  Witherington;  "you 
will  force  a  good-natured  man  to  use  extremities  with 
you  ;"  and  so  saying,  he  laid  a  brace  of  loaded  pistols 
on  the  table.  In  a  moment  the  landlord  was  on  his 
knees,  crying,  "Oh !  dear  sir,  sweet  sir,  kind  sir,  mer- 
ciful sir,  for  God  of  Heaven's  sake,  sir,  don't  take  away 
the  life  of  an  innocent  man,  sir,  who  never  intended 
harm  to  any  one,  sir."  "  Why,  what  harm  do  I  intend 
you,  friend  ?  Cannot  I  lay  the  pistols  I  travel  with  on 
the  table,  but  you  must  throw  yourself  into  this  unne- 
cessary fear?  Pray,  proceed  with  the  receipts,  and 
write  them  in  full  of  all  demands  to  this  time,  or  else — " 
— "Oh,  God,  sir  !  Oh,  dear  sir!  you  have  an  intention 
— pray,  dear  sir,  have  no  intention  against  my  life." 
"  To  the  receipts  then,  or  by  Jupiter  Ammon  !  I  '11 — " 
— "O  yes,  I  will,  sir."  With  this  the  old  landlord 
wrote  full  receipts,  and  delivered  them  to  the  respective 
farmers. 

"  Come,"  said  Witherington,  "  this  is  honest,  and  to 
show  you  that  you  have  to  deal  with  honest  people, 
here  is  the  hundred  and  fifty  pounds ;  and  I  promise 
you,  in  the  name  of  these  honest  men,  that  if  things 
succeed  well,  you  shall  have  the  other  half  next  quar- 
ter-day." The  farmers  paid  the  money,  and  departed 
astonished,  and  not  a  little  afraid,  at  the  consequences 
of  this  proceeding.  Witherington  ordered  his  horse, 
and  inquired  of  the  ostler  the  road  the  old  gentle  nan 
had  to  travel,  and  presently  took  his  departure. 


28  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBEKo. 

He  chose  the  road  which  the  old  gentleman  had  to 
travel,  and  soon  observed  him  jogging  away  in  sullen 
silence,  with  a  servant  behind  him.  When  he  observed 
our  hero,  he  would  have  fled,  but  Witherington  seized 
the  bridle  of  his  horse,  and  forced  him  to  proceed,  ban- 
tering him  upon  the  folly  of  hoarding  up  wealth,  with- 
out enjoying  it  himself,  merely  for  some  spendthrift  son 
to  squander  after  his  death.  "  For,"  he  continued, 
"  money  is  a  blessing  sent  us  from  Heaven,  in  order 
that,  by  its  circulation,  it  may  afford  nourishment  to 
the  body  politic ;  and  if  such  wretches  as  you,  by  lay- 
ing up  thousands  in  your  coffers  to  no  advantage,  cause 
a  stagnation,  there  are  thousands  in  the  world  that 
must  feel  the  consequences,  and  I  am  to  acquaint  you 
of  them  ;  so  that  a  better  deed  cannot  be  done,  than  to 
bestow  what  you  have  about  you  upon  me ;  for,  to  be 
plain  with  you,  I  am  not  to  be  refused  ;"  and  hereupon 
he  presented  his  pistol.  The  old  gentleman,  in  trepi- 
dation for  his  life,  resigned  his  purse,  containing  more 
than  three  hundred  and  fifty  guineas;  and  Withering- 
ton,  unbuckling  the  portmanteau  from  behind  the  ser- 
vant, placed  it  on  his  own  horse,  and  left  the  old  land- 
lord with  an  admonition,  to  be  in  future  affable  and 
generous  to  his  tenants,  for  they  were  the  persons  who 
supported  him,  adding,  that  if  he  ever  again  heard 
complaints  from  them,  he  would  visit  his  house,  and 
partake  liberally  of  what  he  most  coveted. 

The  county,  after  this  adventure,  was  up  in  pursuit 
of  Witherington,  and  he  retired  to  Cheshire  with  great 
expedition.  The  first  house  he  put  up  at  was  an  inn 
kept  by  a  young  widow,  noted  as  well  for  her  kindness 
to  travellers,  as  her  wealth  and  beauty.  She  paid  our 
adventurer  great  attention,  and  invited  him  to  be  of  a 
party,  consisting  of  some  friends,  which  she  was  to 
have  that  evening.  He  was  not  blind  to  the  charms 
of  the  widow,  and  gladly  accepted  the  invitation.  The 
company  he  found  to  consist  chiefly  of  gentlemen,  who, 
he  could  discover,  were  angling  for  the  widow's  riches. 
Witherington  gained  great  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  lady, 
and  she  asked  him  to  favor  the  company  with  a  song, 


THOMAS  WITHERINGTON.  29 

as  she  was  sure,  from  his  sweet  clear  voice,  he  could 
perform  well.  Witherington  wanting  no  farther  impor- 
tunity from  a  person  he  had  fixed  his  affections  upon, 
complied  with  the  request,  and  sang  an  amorous  ditty, 
very  applicable  to  his  present  situation,  and,  with  the 
assistance  of  a  side  glance  and  a  sigh,  enabled  the 
widow  to  draw  the  most  favorable  inferences.  He  was 
completely  successful,  and  the  widow  evidently  van- 
quished. Witherington  was  now  requested  by  the  wi- 
dow to  relate  some  story  concerning  himself,  "as  cer- 
tainly a  person  who  could  make  himself  so  agreeable, 
and  make  others  take  such  an  interest  in  his  welfare, 
could  not  fail  to  have  met  with  something  remarkable 
in  his  lifetime."  Witherington  was  all  compliance, 
and  begged  leave  to  give  a  short  recital  of  his  life ; 
and  the  company  were  anxious  that  he  should  proceed, 
expecting  to  be  informed  of  something  marvellous  and 
mysterious. 

He  invented  an  artful  story,  the  drift  of  which  was 
to  give  the  widow  a  high  idea  of  himself,  of  the  power 
that  love  had  over  him,  and  of  the  generosity  of  his 
own  mind.  His  greatest  misfortune,  he  said,  was  dis- 
appointment in  love,  the  object  of  his  choice  having 
been  stolen  from  him  by  an  old  rich  uncle,  against  her 
inclination,  and  he  stated  that  he  had  just  left  home,  in 
order  to  divert  his  mind  from  the  melancholy  with 
which  this  had  overcast  him;  "chance,"  said  he,  in 
conclusion,  "  has  thrown  me  into  this  hospitable  house, 
where  I  cannot  but  own  I  have  found  as  much  beauty 
as  I  have  been  unfortunately  deprived  of." 

This  story  excited  considerable  interest  throughout 
the  company,  more  particularly  in  the  breast  of  the 
widow,  towards  whom  Witherington  now  evinced  une- 
quivocal marks  of  attention,  which  seemed  to  excite 
considerable  jealousy  in  some  of  the  gentlemen  present. 
They  all  parted,  however,  on  the  most  friendly  terms, 
and  our  adventurer  resolved  to  stay  some  time  at, 
Nantwich,  in  order  to  follow  out  this  adventure.  Next 
morning,  Witherington  renewed  his  assiduities,  and 
both  he  and  the  amorous  widow  were  equally  gratified 

2 


30  LIVES  OF  HIGH  f  AYMEN  AND  ROBBERS 

with  each  other's  company;  at  length,  determined  to 
carry  his  point  by  a  cow  de  grace,  he  declared  a  most 
ardent  passion  for  her,  which,  after  much  prefacing  and 
many  assurances,  was  returned  tenfold.  She  assured 
him,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  had  many  rivals,  but 
over  these  he  had  gained  the  pre-eminence,  in  her  esti- 
mation. 

A  few  days  after  the  first  interview  with  the  other 
suitors  at  the  inn,  Witherington' s  ascendancy  was  so 
evident,  that  a  rival,  who  imagined  he  had  the  game 
within  reach,  was  seriously  alarmed,  and  had  recourse 
to  stratagem  to  free  Himself  from  such  an  opponent. 
For  this  purpose  he  sent  for  Witherington,  and,  with 
every  appearance  of  disinterested  friendship,  informed 
him,  that  he  had  sent  for  him  to  caution  him  against 
further  intimacy  with  the  widow,  to  whom  he  con- 
fessed he  once  paid  matrimonial  court,  but  that  he  had 
thrown  her  completely  off  since  he  had  dwovered  the 
measure  of  her  guilt,  and  congratulated  himself  upon 
his  escape.  Expressing  his  detestation  of  the  character 
of  a  defamer,  and  solemnly  avowing  the  purity  of  his 
motives,  he  informed  Witherington,  that  the  widow 
was  most  fickle  and  insincere  in  her  attachment,  as 
any  one  might  have  discovered  at  the  supper  party ; 
and,  in  order  to  gratify  this  w-ivering  inclination,  she 
had  poisoned  her  last  husband.  He  entreated  him 
then,  as  he  valued  his  own  happiness  and  security,  to 
desist  from  prosecuting  his  indentions  farther,  ana 
hoped  Witherington  would  pardon  the  liberty  he  had 
taken ;  for,  hearing  his  acquaintance  was  to  end  in 
marriage,  and  considering  the  fortunate  escape  he  had 
himself  made,  he  was  bound  to  prevent  a  stranger  from 
being  imposed  upon. 

Witherington  at  once  saw  the  drift  of  his  rival,  ana 
humored  him  accordingly.  He  seemed  shocked  at  the 
baseness  of  the  widow,  and  joined  the  other  in  self- 
congratulation.  He  thanked  the  gentleman  for  his 
kindly  warning,  and  told  him  to  leave  the  affair  to  his 
management,  and  he  would  soon  discover  the  depth  of 
her  guilt;  and  that  as  they  both  seemed  to  have  one 


THOMAS  WITHERINGTON. 


31 


object  in  view,  namely,  the  possession  of  her  money, 
the}  might  then  be  able  to  make  what  use  of  the  cir- 
cumstances they  found  convenient  and  proper.  The 
gentleman  seemed  satisfied,  and  they  parted  for  the 
present. 

Our  adventurer  returning  to  the  inn,  acquainted  the 
widow  with  the  whole  conversation  between  him  and 
the  gentleman.  She  was  greatly  incensed,  declared 
the  world  was  very  censorious,  and  vowed  revenge  at 
whatever  price.  Witherington  judging  that  a  rupture 
was  about  to  take  place,  thought  it  high  time  to  take 
advantage  of  the  credulous  w%man;  so,  that  evening, 
taking  her  aside,  he  observed  to  her  that  the  best  way 
of  revenging  herself  upon  his  rival  would  be,  if  she 
had  any  serious  intention  of  marrying  him,  to  show  her 
inclination  by  some  mark  of  her  favor  that  might  dis- 
tinguish him  above  his  rival.  Glad  of  this  opportunity, 
she  conveyed  him  into  a  closet,  where,  showing  him  ail 
her  money  and  plate,  she  told  him  that  all  these  were 
at  his  service,  provided  he  could  deliver  her  from  the 
importunities  of  the  gentleman.  Witherington  assured 
her  that  she  might  depend  upon  him,  and,  taking  his 
leave  for  the  night,  retired  to  his  chamber.  Here  he 
wrote  the  following  letter  to  the  widow  : 

"  My  Dear, 
"  Ever  mindful  of  what  a  woman  says,  especially 
one  who  has  been  pleased  to  set  her  affections  on  me, 
I  have  written  this  letter  purely  to  acquaint  you  that, 
being  obliged  to  go  to  London,  and  the  journey  being 
pretty  long,  I  could  not  do  better  than  make  use  of  the 
money  in  the  closet  which  you  were  so  good  as  to  say 
was  at  my  service.  I  was  in  exceeding  haste  when  I 
began  to  write  this',  so  that  I  can  spare  no  more  time 
than  to  request  you  to  be  sure  of  thinking  of  me  till  my 
return.  T.  Witherington." 

After  writing  this  he  went  privately  into  the  widow's 
closet  and  secured  all  her  ready  money,  which  amount- 
ed to  above  three  hundred  pounds;  then,  going  into 


32  LIVE&  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBB-EKS. 

the  stable,  saddled  his  horse,  mounted,  and  rode  out  at 
the  back  door,  leaving  the  family  fast  asleep,  and  tht; 
widow  and  the  gentleman  lover  to  prosecute  theii 
amours  as  they  thought  fit. 

Witherington,  not  yet  content  with  the  spoil  obtained 
from  the  parish  and  from  the  widow,  repaired  to  the 
London  road,  where  he  perpetrated  a  robbery  between 
Acton  and  Uxbridge ;  after  which  he  was  detected  and 
committed  to  Newgate,  where  he  led  a  most  profligate 
life  till  the  day  of  his  execution. 

He  was  executed  with  Jonathan  Woodward  and 
James  Phiipot,  two  most  notorious  housebreakers,  who 
had  once  before  received  mercy  from  king  James  I. 
upon  his  accession  to  the  throne.  One  of  the  name  of 
Elliot,  the  son  of  a  respectable  lady  then  living,  was 
condemned  at  the  same  time,  but  afterwards  pardoned. 
This  individual,  thus  restored  to  society  by  the  royal 
clemency,  afterwards  became  a  worthy  citizen  and  a 
good  Christian.  Out  of  compassion  for  other  criminals, 
and  in  acknowledgment  of  the  king's  favor,  his  mother, 
upon  her  death-bed,  bequeathed  a  handsome  sum  to 
the  parish  of  St.  Sepulchre's  in  London,  upon  the  con- 
dition of  finding  a  man  who  should  always,  between 
the  hours  of  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  of  the  night  pre- 
vious to  the  execution  of  any  unhappy  criminal,  go 
under  Newgate,  and,  giving  notice  of  his  approach  by 
the  ringing  of  a  bell,  remind  the  prisoners  of  their  ap- 
proaching end,  by  repeating  religious  exhortations, 
tending  to  prepare  them  for  death.  Witherington  and 
his  companions  in  death  were  the  first  to  whom  these 
exhortations  were  given ;  and  as  the  design  is  truly  be 
nevolent,  and  as  they  are  often  fraught  with  incalculable 
blessings  to  the  guilty,  we  will  gratify  our  readers  by 
the  insertion  of  them,  and  with  this  close  the  life  of 
Witherington. 

The  person  appointed,  after  inquiring  of  the  crimi- 
nals if  they  are  awake,  and  being  answered  in  thft 
affirmative,  proceeds  thus : 

"Gentlemen,  I  am  the  unwelcome  messenger  who 
conies  to  inform  you  that  to-morrow  you  must  die. 


THOMAS  WTTHER1NGTON.  33 

Your  time  is  but  short,  the  time  slides  away  apace,  the 
glass  runs  fast,  and  the  last  sand  being  now  about  to 
drop,  when  you  must  launch  out  into  boundless  eterni- 
ty, give  not  yourselves  to  sleep,  but  watch  and  pray  to 
gain  eternal  life.  Repent  sooner  than  St.  Peter,  and 
repent  before  the  cock  crows,  for  now  repentance  is  the 
only  road  to  salvation;  be  fervent  in  this  great  duty, 
and  without  doubt  you  may  to-morrow  be  with  the 
penitent  thief  in  paradise.  Pray  without  ceasing ; 
quench  not  the  spirit ;  abstain  from  all  appearance  of 
evil ;  as  your  own  wickedness  hath  caused  all  this  to 
fall  upon  you,  and  brought  the  day  of  tribulation  near 
at  hand,  so  let  goodness  be  your  sole  comfort,  that  your 
souls  may  find  perpetual  rest  with  your  blessed  Savior 
who  died  for  the  sins  of  the  world ;  he  will  wipe  all 
tears  from  your  eyes,  remove  your  sorrows,  and  assuage 
your  grief,  so  that  your  sin-sick  souls  shall  be  healed 
for  evermore.  I  exhort  you  earnestly  not  to  be  negli- 
gent of  the  work  of  your  salvation,  which  depends 
upon  your  sincere  devotion  betwixt  this  and  to-mor- 
row, when  the  sword  of  justice  shall  send  you  out  of 
the  land  of  the  living.  Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith, 
and  lay  hold  of  eternal  life  whilst  you  may,  for  there  is 
no  repentance  in  the  grave.  Ye  have  pierced  your- 
selves with  many  sorrows,  but  a  {ew  hours  will  bring 
you  to  a  place  where  you  will  know  nothing  but  joy 
and  gladness.  Love  righteousness  and  hate  iniquity, 
then  God,  even  your  God,  will  anoint  you  with  the  oil 
of  gladness  above  your  fellows.  Go  now  boldly  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  that  ye  may  obtain  mercy  and  find 
grace  to  help  in  time  of  need.  The  God  of  peace  sanc- 
tify you  wholly  !  and  I  pray  God,  your  whole  spirits, 
and  souls,  and  bodies,  may  be  preserved  blameless, 
until  the  meeting  of  your  blessed  Redeemer !  The 
Lord  have  mercy  upon  you  !  Christ  have  mercy  upon 
you  !  Sweet  Jesus  receive  your  souls  !  and  to-morrow 
may  you  sup  with  him  in  paradise  !  Amen  !  Amen  !" 
Next  day,  when  they  were  to  die,  the  bell  on  the 
steeple  was  tolled,  and  the  cart  stopped  under  the 
churchyard  wall  at  St.  Sepulchre's,  where,  the  same 


34  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

person  repeated  from  the  wall  the  following  additional 
exhortation  : 

"  Gentlemen,  consider,  now  you  are  going  out  of  this 
world  into  another,  where  you  will  live  in  happiness 
or  woe  for  evermore.  Make  your  peace  with  God  Al- 
mighty, and  let  your  whole  thoughts  be  entirely  bent 
upon  your  latter  end.  Cursed  is  he  that  hangeih  on  a 
tree;  but  it  is  hoped  the  fatal  knot  will  bring  your  pre- 
cious souls  to  a  union  with  the  great  Creator  of  hea- 
ven and  earth,  to  whom  I  recommend  your  souls,  in 
this  your  final  hour  of  distress.  Lord  have  mercy 
upon  you!  Christ  look  down  upon  you  and  comfort 
you  !  Sweet  Jesus  receive  your  souls  this  day  into 
eternal  life  !     Amen  !" 


JAMES  BATSON. 


This  famous  robber  was  born  in  the  first  year  of 
James  the  First.  It  so  happens  (although  perhaps  the 
circumstance  is  no  very  satisfacto*y  evidence  of  the  au- 
thenticity of  his  adventures)  that  he  is  his  own  historian; 
we  are  accordingly  compelled,  in  default  of  other  parti- 
culars, to  lay  his  auto-biography  before  our  readers. 

"  1  suppose,"  says  he,  "  that,  according  to  custom, 
the  reader  will  expect  some  relation  of  my  genealogy, 
and  as  I  am  a  great  admirer  of  fashion,  I  shall  gratify 
his  curiosity.  My  grandfather  had  the  good  fortune  to 
marry  a  woman  well  skilled  in  vaulting  and  rope-danc- 
ing, and  who  could  act  her  part  uncommonly  well. 
Though  above  fifty  years  of  age,  and  affected  with  the 
phthisic,  she  died  in  the  air.  To  avoid  seeing  other 
women  fly  as  she  had  done,  her  husband  would  not 
marry  again ;  but  diverted  himself  with  keeping  a  pup- 
pet-show in  Moorfields,  deemed  the  most  remarkable 
that  ever  had  been  seen  in  that  place.  My  grandfather 
was  also  so  little,  that  the  only  difference  between  him 


JAMES    BATSON.  £5 

and  his  puppets  was,  that  they  spoke  through  a  trunk, 
and  he  without  one.  He  was,  however,  so  eloquent, 
and  made  such  lively  speeches,  that  his  audience  were 
never  rendered  drowsy.  Ail  the  apple-women,  hawk- 
ers, and  fish-women,  were  so  charmed  by  his  wit,  that 
they  would  run  to  hear  him,  and  leave  their  goods 
without  any  guard  but  their  own  straw  hats. 

"  My  father  had  two  trades,  or  two  strings  to  his 
bow ;  he  was  a  painter  and  a  gamester,  and  master 
much  alike  at  both  ;  for  his  painting  could  scarcely 
rise  so  high  as  a  sign-post,  and  his  hand  at  play  was 
of  such  an  ancient  date,  that  it  could  scarcely  pass. 
He  had  one  misfortune,  which,  like  original  sin,  he  en- 
tailed upon  all  his  children;  and  that  was,  his  being 
born  a  gentleman,  which  is  as  bad  as  being  a  poet,  few 
of  whom  escape  eternal  poverty. 

"  My  mother  had  the  misfortune  to  die  longing  for 
mushrooms.  Besides  myself  she  left  two  daughters, 
both  very  handsome  and  very  young;  and  though  I 
was  then  young  myself,  yet  I  was  much  better  skilled 
in  sharping  than  my  age  seemed  to  promise.  When 
the  funeral  sermon  was  preached,  the  funeral  rites  per- 
formed, and  our  tears  dried  up,  my  father  returned  to 
his  daubing,  my  sisters  to  their  stitching,  and  I  was 
despatched  to  school.  I  had  such  an  excellent  memory, 
that  though  my  dispositions  were  then  what  they  have 
continued  to  be,  yet  I  soon  learned  as  much  as  might 
have  been  applied  to  better  purposes  than  I  have  done. 
My  tricks  upon  my  master  and  my  companions  were 
so  numerous,  that  I  obtained  the  honorable  appellation 
of  the  Little  Judas.  My  avaricious  disposition  soon 
appeared,  and  if  my  covetous  eyes  once  beheld  any 
thing,  my  invention  soon  put  it  into  my  possession. 
These,  however,  1  could  not  obtain  gratis,  for  they 
cost  me  many  a  boxing  bout  every  day.  The  reports 
of  my  conduct  were  conveyed  home,  and  my  eldest 
sister  would  frequently  spend  her  white  hands  upon 
the  side  of  my  pate ;  and  sometimes  even  carried  her 
admonitions  so  far,  as  politely  to  inform  me,  that  i 
would  prove  a  disgrace  to  the  family. 


36  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

"It  was  my  good  fortune,  however,  not  to  be  greatly 
agitated  by  her  remonstrances,  which  went  in  at  the  one 
ear  and  out  at  the  other.  It  happened,  however,  that 
my  adventures  were  so  numerous,  and  daily  increasing 
in  their  magnitude,  that  1  was  dismissed  the  school 
with  as  much  solemnity  as  if  it  had  been  by  beat  of 
drum.  After  giving  me  a  complete  drubbing,  my  fa- 
ther carried  me  to  a  barber,  in  order  to  be  bound  as  his 
apprentice.  I  was  first  sent  to  the  kitchen,  where  my 
mistress  soon  provided  me  with  employment,  by  show- 
ing me  a  parcel  of  dirty  clothes,  informing  me,  that  it 
made  part  of  the  apprentice's  work  to  clean  them  : 
1  Jemmy,'  said  she,  '  mind  your  heels,  there  's  a  good 
boy  V  I  hung  down  my  head,  tumbled  all  the  clouts 
into  a  trough,  and  washed  them  as  well  as  I  could.  I 
so  managed  the  matter,  that  I  was  soon  discarded 
from  my  office,  which  was  very  fortunate  for  me,  for  it 
would  have  put  an  end  to  Jemmy  in  less  than  a  fort- 
night. 

"  The  third  day  of  my  apprenticeship,  my  master 
having  just  given  me  a  note  to  receive  money,  there 
came  into  the  shop  a  ruffian  with  a  pair  of  whiskers, 
and  told  my  master  he  would  have  them  turned  up. 
The  journeyman  not  being  at  hand,  my  master  began 
to  turn  them  up  himself^  and  desired  me  to  heat  the 
irons.  I  complied,  and  just  as  he  had  turned  up  one 
whisker,  there  happened  a  quarrel  in  the  street,  and 
my  master  ran  out  to  learn  the  cause.  The  scuffle 
lasting  long,  and  my  master  desirous  to  see  the  end  as 
well  as  the  beginning  of  the  bustle,  the  spark  was  all 
the  time  detained  in  the  shop,  with  the  one  whisker 
ornamented,  and  the  other  hanging  down  like  an  aspen 
leaf.  In  a  harsh  tone  he  asked  me,  if  I  understood  my 
trade;  and  I,  thinking  it  derogatory  to  my  understand- 
ing to  be  ignorant,  boldly  replied  that  I  did;  'Why, 
then,'  said  he,  '  turn  up  this  whisker  for  me,  or  I  shall 
go  into  the  street  as  I  am,  and  kick  your  master.'  I 
was  unwilling  to  be  detected  in  a  lie,  and  deeming  it 
no  difficult  matter  to  turn  up  a  whisker,  never  showed 
the  least  concern,  but  took  up  one  of  the  irons,  that  had 


JAMES    BATSON.  37 

been  in  the  fire  ever  since  the  commencement  of  the 
street  bustle,  and  having  nothing  to  try  it  on,  and  will- 
ing to  appear  expeditious,  I  took  a  comb,  stuck  it  into 
his  bristly  bush,  and  clapped  the  iron  to  it:  no  sooner 
did  they  meet,  than  there  arose  a  smoke,  as  if  it  had 
been  out  of  a  chimney,  with  a  whizzing  noise,  and  in  a 
moment  all  the  hair  vanished.  He  exclaimed  furious- 
ly, '  Thou  son  of  a  thousand  dogs  !  dost  thou  take  me 
for  St.  Lawrence,  that  thou  burnest  me  alive!'  With 
that  he  let  fly  such  a  bang  at  me,  that  the  comb  drop- 
ped out  of  my  hand,  and  I  could  not  avoid,  in  the 
fright,  laying  the  hot  iron  close  along  his  cheek :  this 
made  him  give  such  a  shriek  as  shook  the  whole  house, 
and  he,  at  the  same  time,  drew  his  sword  to  send  me 
to  the  other  world.  I,  however,  recollecting  the  pro- 
verb, that  '  One  pair  of  heels  is  worth  two  pair  of 
hands,'  ran  so  nimbly  into  the  street,  and  fled  so 
quickly  from  that  part  of  the  town,  that  though  I  was 
a  good  runner,  I  was  amazed  when  I  found  myself 
about  a  mile  from  home,  with  the  iron  in  my  hand, 
and  the  remainder  of  the  whisker  sticking  to  it.  As 
fortune  would  have  it,  I  was  near  the  dwelling  of  the 
person  who  was  to  pay  the  note  my  master  gave  me : 
I  went  and  received  the  money,  but  deemed  it  proper 
to  detain  it  in  lieu  of  my  three  days'  wages. 

"  This  money  was  all  exhausted  in  one  month,  when 
I  was  under  the  necessity  of  returning  to  my  father's 
house.  Before  arriving  there,  I  was  informed,  that  he 
was  gone  to  the  country  to  receive  a  large  sum  of  money 
which  was  due  him,  and  therefore  went  boldly  in,  as 
if  the  house  had  been  my  own.  My  grave  eisters  re- 
ceived me  very  coldly,  and  severely  blamed  me  for  the 
money  which  my  father  paid  for  my  pranks.  Main- 
taining, however,  the  honor  of  my  birthright,  1  kept 
them  at  considerable  distance.  The  domestic  war  be- 
ing thus  prolonged,  I  one  day  lost  temper,  and  was 
resolved  to  make  them  feel  the  consequences  of  giving 
me  sour  beer ;  and,  though  the  dinner  was  upon  the 
table,  I  threw  the  dish  at  my  eldest  sister,  and  the  beer 
at  the  younger,  overthrew  the  table,  and  marched  out 
D 


38  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBER8. 

of  doors  on  a  ramble.  Fortunately,  however,  I  was 
interrupted  in  my  flight  by  one  who  informed  me,  that 
my  father  was  dead,  and  in  his  testament  had  very 
wisely  left  me  sole  heir  and  executor.  Upon  this  I  re- 
turned, and  soon  found  the  tones  and  tempers  of  my 
sisters  changed,  in  consequence  of  the  recent  news.  I 
sold  the  goods,  collected  the  debts,  and  feasted  all  the 
rakes  in  town,  until  not  one  farthing  remained. 

"  One  evening,  a  party  of  my  companions  carried  me 
along  with  them,  and,  opening  the  door  of  a  certain 
house,  conveyed  from  thence  some  trunks,  which  a 
faithful  dog  perceiving,  he  gave  the  alarm.  The  peo- 
ple of  the  house  attacked  the  robbers,  who  threw  down 
their  burdens  to  defend  themselves :  meanwhile,  I 
skulked  into  a  corner  all  trembling.  The  watch  made 
their  appearance,  and  seeing  three  trunks  in  the  street, 
two  men  dangerously  wounded,  and  myself  standing 
at  a  small  distance,  they  seized  me  as  one  concerned  in 
the  robbery.  Next  day  I  was  ordered  to  a  place  ol 
confinement,  and  could  find  no  friend  to  bail  me  from 
thence.  In  ten  days  I  was  tried,  and  my  defences 
being  frivolous  and  unsatisfactory,  I  was  about  to  be 
hoisted  up  by  the  neck,  and  sent  out  of  the  world  in  a 
swinging  manner,  when  a  reprieve  came,  and  in  two 
months  a  full  pardon. 

"  After  this  horrible  fright,  (for  I  was  not  much  dis- 
disposed  to  visit  the  dwelling  of  my  .grandfather,)  I 
commenced  travelling  merchant,  and,  according  to  my 
finances,  purchased  a  quantity  of  wash-balls,  tooth- 
picks, and  tooth-powders.  Pretending  that  they  came 
from  Japan,  Peru,  or  Tartary,  and  extolling  them  to 
the  skies,  I  had  a  good  sale,  particularly  among  the 
gentry  of  the  playhouse.  Upon  a  certain  day,  one 
of  the  actresses,  a  beautiful  woman  of  eighteen,  and 
married  to  one  of  the  actors,  addressed  me,  saying, 
'  she  had  taken  a  liking  to  me,  because  I  was  a  confi- 
dent, sharp,  forward  youth;  and  therefore,  if  I  would 
serve  her,  she  would  entertain  me  with  all  her  heart; 
and  that,  when  the  company  were  strolling,  I  might 
beat  the  drum  and  stick  up  the  bills.'     Deeming  it  an 


JAMES    BATSON.  39 

easier  mode  of  moving  through  the  world,  I  readily 
consented,  only  requesting  two  days  to  dispose  of  my 
stock,  and  to  settle  all  my  accounts. 

"  In  my  new  profession  my  employments  were  vari- 
ous, some  of  which,  though  not  very  pleasant,  I  endea- 
vored to  reconcile  myself  to,  inasmuch  as  they  were 
comparatively  better  than  my  former.  In  a  little  time, 
I  became  more  acquainted  with  the  tempers  of  my  mas- 
ter and  mistress,  and  became  so  great  a  favorite,  that  fees 
and  bribes  replenished  my  coffers  from  all  expectants 
and  authors  who  courted  their  favor.  Unfortunately, 
however,  one  day,  in  their  absence,  I  was  invited  by 
some  of  the  party  to  take  a  walk,  and,  going  into  a 
tavern,  commenced  playing  at  cards,  till  my  last  far- 
thing was  lost.  Determined,  if  possible,  to  be  revenged 
of  my  antagonist,  I  requested  time  to  run  home  for 
more  money  :  it  was  readily  granted.  I  ran  and  seized 
an  article  belonging  to  my  mistress,  pawned  it  for  a 
small  sum,  which  soon  followed  my  other  stores.  But 
evils  seldom  come  alone :  I  was  in  this  situation  not 
only  deprived  of  my  money,  but  also  obliged  to  de- 
camp." 

The  next  adventure  of  Batson  was  to  enlist  as  a  sol- 
dier. It  happened,  however,  that  his  captain  cheating 
him  out  of  his  pay,  caused  a  grievous  quarrel.  Batson 
soon  found  that  it  was  dangerous  to  reside  in  Rome 
and  strive  with  the  pope.  His  captain,  upon  some  pre- 
tence of  improper  conduct,  had  him  apprehended,  tried, 
and  condemned  to  be  hanged.  The  cause  of  this  harsh 
treatment  was  a  very  simple  one  :  "  For,"  says  Batson, 
"  I  was  one  day  drinking  with  a  soldier,  and  happened 
to  fall  out  about  a  lie  given.  My  sword  unluckily  run- 
ning into  his  throat,  he  kicked  up  his  heels,  through 
his  own  fault,  for  he  ran  upon  my  point,  so  that  he 
may  thank  his  own  hastiness."  Upon  this  our  hero 
says,  "As  if  it  had  been  a  thing  of  nothing,  or  as 
a  matter  of  pastime,  they  gave  sentence  that  I  should 
be  led  in  state  along  the  streets,  then  mounted  upon  a 
ladder,  kick  up  my  heels  before  all  the  people,  and  take 
a  swing  in  the  open  air,  as  if  I  had  another  life  in  my 


40  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

knapsack.  A  notary  informed  me  of  this  sentence, 
who  was  so  generous  that  he  requested  no  fee,  nor  any 
expenses  for  his  trouble  during  the  trial.  The  unfeel- 
ing gaoler  desired  me  to  make  my  peace  with  my 
Maker,  without  giving  me  one  drop  to  cheer  my  de- 
sponding heart.  Informed  of  my  melancholy  condition, 
a  compassionate  friar  came  to  prepare  me  for  another 
world,  since  the  inhabitants  of  this  were  so  ready  to  bid 
me  farewell.  When  he  arrived,  he  inquired  for  the 
condemned  person.  I  answered,  '  Father,  I  am  the 
man,  though  you  do  not  know  me.'  He  said,  'Deal 
child,  it  is  now  time  for  you  to  think  of  another  worlds 
since  sentence  is  passed,  and,  therefore,  you  must 
employ  the  short  time  allowed  you  in  confessing  your 
sins,  and  asking  forgiveness  of  your  offences. '  I  an- 
swered, '  Reverend  father,  in  obedience  to  the  com- 
mands of  the  church,  I  confess  but  once  in  the  year, 
and  that  is  in  Lent;  but  if,  according  to  the  human 
laws,  I  must  atone  with  my  life  for  the  crime  I  have 
committed,  your  reverence,  being  so  learned,  must  be 
truly  sensible  that  there  is  no  divine  precept  which 
says,  "Thoushalt  not  eat  or  drink;"  and  therefore,  since 
it  is  not  contrary  to  the  law  of  God,  I  desire  that  I  may 
have  meat  and  drink,  and  then  we  will  discourse  of 
what  is  best  for  us  both ;  for  I  am  in  a  Christian  coun- 
try, and  plead  the  privilege  of  sanctuary.' 

"  The  good  friar  was  much  moved  at  finding  me  so 
jocular  when  I  ought  to  be  so  serious,  and  began  to 
preach  to  me  a  loud  and  a  long  sermon  upon  the  parable 
of  the  lost  sheep,  and  the  repentance  of  the  good  thief. 
But  the  charity  bells  that  ring  when  criminals  are  exe- 
cuted knolling  in  mine  ears,  made  a  deeper  impression 
than  the  loud  and  impressive  voice  of  the  friar.  I 
therefore  kneeled  down  before  my  ghostly  father,  and 
cleared  the  store-house  of  my  sins,  and  poured  forth  a 
dreadful  budget  of  iniquity.  He  then  gave  me  his 
blessing,  and  poor  Batson  seemed  prepared  to  take  his 
flight  from  a  world  of  misfortunes  and  insults. 

"  But,  having  previously  presented  a  petition  to  the 
marquis  D'Estc,  then  commanding  officer,  he  at  that 


JAMES    BATSON.  '      4t 

critical  moment  called  me  before  him.  He,  being  a 
merciful  man,  respited  my  sentence,  and  sent  me  to  the 
galleys  for  ten  years.  Some  friends  farther  interfered, 
and  informed  the  marquis,  that  the  accusation  and  sen- 
tence against  me  were  effected  by  the  malice  of  the 
captain,  who  was  offended  because  I  had  insisted  for 
the  whole  of  my  listing  money.  The  result  was,  that 
he  ordered  me  to  be  set  at  liberty,  to  the  disappointment 
of  my  captain,  together  with  that  of  the  multitude  and 
the  executioner. 

"  The  deadly  fright  being  over,  and  my  mind  re- 
stored to  tranquillity,  I  went  forth  to  walk,  and  to  me- 
ditate upon  what  method  I  was  now  to  pursue  in  the 
rugged  journey  of  life.  Every  man  has  his  own  for- 
tune, and,  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  I  again  met 
with  a  recruiting  officer,  who  enlisted  me,  and,  from 
partiality,  took  me  home  to  his  own  quarters.  The 
cook  taking  leave  of  the  family,  I  was  interrogated  if  I 
understood  any  thing  in  that  line.  To  this  I  replied, 
as  usual,  in  the  affirmative,  and  was  accordingly  in- 
stalled into  the  important  office  of  a  cook. 

"In  the  course  of  a  military  life,  my  master  took  up 
his  winter  residence  at  Bavaria,  in  the  house  of  one  of 
the  richest  men  in  those  parts.  To  save  his  property, 
however,  the  Bavarian  pretended  to  be  very  poor,  drove 
away  all  his  cattle,  and  removed  all  his  stores  to  another 
quarter.  Informed  of  this,  I  waited  upon  him,  and  ac- 
quainted him  that,  as  he  had  a  person  of  quality  in  his 
house,  it  would  be  necessary  to  provide  liberally  for 
him  and  his  servants.  He  replied,  that  I  had  only  to 
inform  him  what  provisions  I  wanted,  and  he  would 
order  them  immediately.  I  then  informed  him,  that 
my  master  always  kept  three  tables,  one  for  the  gentle- 
men and  pages,  a  second  for  the  butler  and  under  offi- 
cers, a  third  for  the  footmen,  grooms,  and  other  liveries ; 
that  for  these  tables  be  must  supply  one  ox,  two  calves, 
four  sheep,  twelve  pullets,  six  capons,  two  dozen  of  pi 
geons,  six  pounds  of  bacon,  four  pounds  of  sugar,  two 
of  all  sorts  of  spice ;  a  hundred  eggs,  half  a  dozen  disiies 
of  fish,  a  pot  of  wine  to  every  plate,  and  six  hogsheads 


42  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

to  stand  by.  He  blessed  himself,  and  exclaimed,  '  If 
all  you  speak  of  be  only  for  the  servants'  tables,  the 
village  will  not  be  able  to  furnish  the  master's.'  To 
this  1  rep-lied,  that  my  master  was  such  a  good-natured 
man,  that,  if  he  saw  his  servants  and  attendants  well 
provided,  he  was  indifferent  to  his  own  table;  a  dish 
of  imperial  stuffed  meat,  with  an  egg  in  it,  would  be 
sufficient  for  him.  He  asked  me  of  what  that  same 
imperial  stuffed  meat  was  composed?  I  desired  him 
to  send  for  a  grave-digger  and  a  cobbler,  and  while  they 
were  at  work,  I  would  inform  him  what  there  was  want- 
ing. They  were  instantly  called.  I  then  took  an  egg, 
and  putting  it  into  the  body  of  a  pigeon,  which  I  had 
already  gutted  with  my  knife,  said  to  him,  '  Now,  sir, 
take  notice ;  this  egg  is  in  the  pigeon,  the  pigeon  is  to 
be  put  into  a  partridge,  the  partridge  into  a  pheasant, 
the  pheasant  into  a  pullet,  the  pullet  into  a  turkey,  the 
turkey  into  a  kid,  the  kid  into  a  sheep,  the  sheep  into  a 
calf,  the  calf  into  a  cow ;  all  these  creatures  are  to  be 
pulled,  flead,  and  larded,  except  the  cow,  which  is  to 
have  her  hide  on  ;  and  as  they  are  through  one  into 
another,  like  a  nest  of  boxes,  the  cobbler  is  to  sew  every 
one  of  them  with  an  end,  that  they  may  not  slip 
out;  and  the  grave-digger  is  to  throw  up  a  deep  trench, 
into  which  one  load  of  coals  is  to  be  cast,  and  the  cow 
laid  on  the  top  of  it,  and  another  load  above  her ;  the 
fuel  set  on  fire,  to  burn  about  four  hours,  more  or  less, 
when  the  meat  being  taken  out,  is  incorporated,  and 
becomes  such  a  delicious  dish,  that  formerly  the  em- 
perors used  to  dine  upon  it  on  their  coronation-day ; 
for  which  reason,  and  because  an  egg  is  the  foundation 
of  all  that,  curious  mass,  it  is  named  the  "  imperial  egg- 
stuffed  meat." '  The  landlord  was  not  a  little  asto- 
nished, but  after  some  conversation  we  understood 
each  other,  and  my  master  left  the  matter  to  my 
care. 

"  In  the  course  of  my  negotiations  with  the  landlord, 
I  incurred  the  displeasure  of  my  master,  who,  discover- 
ing my  policy,  came  into  the  kitchen,  seized  the  first 
convenient  instrument,  and  belabored  me  most  unmer- 


JAMES    BATSON.  43 

sifully.     He  was,  however,  punished  for  his  rashness, 
by  the  want  of  a  cook  for  two  weeks. 

"  The  scoundrels  of  the  French  were  audacious 
enough  to  pay  us  a  visit  while  we  remained  here.  I 
was  ordered  out  with  the  rest,  but  I  kept  at  the  greatest 
distance,  lest  any  bullet  should  have  mistaken  me  for 
some  other  person.  No  sooner  did  I  receive  the  intelli- 
gence that  the  French  were  conquered,  than  I  ran  to 
the  field  of  battle,  brandishing  my  sword,  and  cutting 
and  slashing  among  the  dead  men.  It  unfortunately 
happened,  however,  that,  as  I  struck  one  of  them  with 
my  sword,  he  uttered  a  mournful  groan,  and,  appre- 
hensive that  he  was  about  to  revenge  the  injury  done 
to  him,  I  ran  off  with  full  speed,  leaving  my  sword  in 
his  body.  In  passing  along,  I  met  with  another  sword, 
which  saved  my  honor,  as  I  vaunted  that  I  had  seized 
it  from  one  in  the  field  of  battle. 

"  While  thus  rambling  through  the  field  of  blood  and 
danger,  my  master  was  carried  home  mortally  wound- 
ed, who  called  me  a  scoundrel,  and  cried,  '  Why  did 
not  you  obey  me?'  'Lest,  sir,'  replied  I,  'I  should 
have  been  as  you  now  are.'  The  good  man  soon 
breathed  his  last,  leaving  me  a  horse  and  fifty  ducats. 

"  Being  again  emancipated  from  the  bonds  of  servi- 
tude, I  began  to  enjoy  life,  and  continued  to  treat  all 
my  acquaintance  so  long  as  my  money  would  permit. 
The  return  of  poverty,  however,  made  me  again  enlist 
under  the  banners  of  servitude. 

"  About  this  time  a  singular  occurrence  happened 
to  me.  I  chanced  to  go  out  into  the  street,  when  my 
eyesight  was  so  affected,  that  I  could  not  discern  black 
from  green,  nor  white  from  gray.  Observing  the  can- 
dles suspended  in  a  candle-maker's  shop,  and  taking 
them  for  radishes,  I  thought  there  was  no  great  harm 
though  I  should  taste  one  of  them.  Accordingly,  lay- 
ing hold  of  one,  down  fell  the  whole  row,  and  being 
dashed  to  pieces  upon  the  floor,  a  scuffle  ensued  ;  I  was 
taken  into  custody,  and  made  to  pay  the  damage, 
which  operated  to  restore  my  sight  to  its  natural  state. 

"  Not  long  after  this  adventure,  I  was  assailed  with 


44  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

love  for  the  fair  sex,  and,  after  some  sighs  and  presents, 
I  was  bound  to  a  woman  for  better  or  for  worse,  and 
continued  with  her  until  the  charms  of  the  marriage 
state  and  the  pleasures  of  domestic  life  began  to  pall 
upon  me,  and  an  ardent  desire  to  return  to  my  old 
course  of  adventure  took  possession  of  my  mind.  To- 
wards the  attainment  of  this  desirable  end,  I  one  day 
kicked  my  wife  out  of  doors,  dressed  myself,  and  pre- 
pared to  sally  forth.  I  had  no  sooner  effected  this 
liberation,  than  a  tavern  was  my  first  resting-place  to 
recruit  my  spirits  and  to  redeem  lost  time. 

"  I  at  last  formed  the  resolution  of  returning  to  my 
native  home,  and  there  spending  the  evening  of  my 
bustling  life  in  calm  repose.  After  travelling  many  a 
tedious  mile,  I  got  to  London.  Arrived  in  the  capital, 
I  went  directly  to  my  father's  house,  but  found  it  in 
the  possession  of  another,  and  my  sisters  departed  this 
life.  As  both  of  them  had  been  married,  and  had  left 
children,  there  was  no  hope  of  any  legacy  by  their 
death  :  I  was  therefore  under  the  necessity,  of  doing 
something  for  a  living.  Finding  the  gout  increasing 
upon  me,  I,  by  the  advice  of  an  acquaintance,  took  a 
public  house;  and,  as  I  understood  several  languages, 
I  thought  I  might  have  many  customers  from  among 
foreigners." 

Batson  then  gravely  concludes  his  own  narrative  in 
these  words : — 

11 1  intend  to  leave  off  my  foolish  pranks,  and  as  I 
have  spent  my  juvenile  years  and  money  in  keeping 
company,  hope  to  find  some  fools  as  bad  as  myself, 
who  delight  in  throwing  away  their  estates  and  impair- 
ing their  health." 

He  accordingly  took  a  house  in  Smithfield,  and  ac- 
quired a  considerable  sum.  But,  being  desirous  to 
make  a  fortune  with  one  dash,  he  hastened  his  end. 
Among  others  who  put  up  at  his  house  was  a  gentle- 
man who  had  purchased  a  large  estate  in  the  country, 
and  was  going  to  deliver  the  cash.  The  ostler  observed 
to  his  master,  that  the  bags  belonging  to  the  gentleman 
were  uncommonly  heavy  when  he  carried  them  into 


John  Cottington.         P.  47. 


MULLED    SACK.  47 

the  house.  They  mutually  agreed  to  rob,  and  after- 
wards to  murder  him ;  and  the  ostler  accomplished  the 
horrid  deed.  But,  differing  about  the  division  of  the 
spoil,  the  ostler  got  drunk,  and  disclosed  the  whole 
matter.  The  house  was  searched,  the  body  of  the 
gentleman  found,  and  both  the  murderers  were  seized, 
tried,  and  condemned.  The  ostler  died  before  the  fatal 
day,  but  Batson  was  executed,  and,  according  to  the 
Catholic  faith,  died  a  penitent,  a  year  before  the  resto- 
ration of  king  Charles  the  Second. 


MULLED  SACK,  alias  JOHN  COTTINGTON. 

This  man's  father  was  a  petty  haberdasher  in  Cheap- 
side,  but  living  above  his  income,  he  died  so  poor  that 
he  was  interred  by  the  parish.  He  had  eighteen  chil- 
dren, fifteen  daughters  and  three  sons.  Our  hero  was 
the  youngest  of  the  family,  and  at  the  age  of  eight  was 
bound  apprentice  to  a  chimney-sweeper.  In  his  first 
year,  deeming  himself  as  expert  at  his  profession  as 
his  master,  he  left  him,  and,  acting  for  himself,  soon 
acquired  a  great  run  of  business. 

Money  now  coming  in  upon  him,  he  frequented  the 
tavern,  and,  disdaining  to  taste  of  any  thing  but  mulled 
sack,  he  acquired  that  appellation.  One  evening  he 
there  met  with  a  young  woman,  with  whom  he  was  so 
enamored,  that  "  he  took  her  for  better  for  worse." 
But,  not  enjoying  that  degree  of  comfort  in  this  union 
which  his  imagination  had  painted  to  him,  he  fre- 
quented the  company  of  other  women,  until  it  became 
necessary  to  make  public  contributions  to  supply  their 
pressing  necessities.  His  first  trials  were  in  picking 
pockets  of  watches,  and  any  small  sum  he  could  find. 
Among  others,  he  robbed  a  lady  famous  among  the 
usurers,  of  a  gold  watch  set  with  diamonds,  and  ano- 


48  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

ther  lady  of  a  similar  piece  of  luxury,  as  she  was 
going  into  church  to  hear  a  celebrated  preacher.  By 
the  aid  of  his  accomplices,  the  pin  was  taken  out  of  the 
axle  of  her  coach,  which  fell  down  at  the  church  door, 
and  in  the  crowd,  Mulled  Sack,  being  dressed  as  a 
gentleman,  gave  her  his  hand,  while  he  seized  her 
watch.  The  pious  lady  did  not  discover  her  loss, 
until  she  wished  to  know  the  length  of  the  sermon, 
when  her  devout  meditations,  excited  by  the  consoling 
exhortation  of  the  pious  preacher,  were  sadly  inter- 
rupted by  the  loss  of  her  time-piece.  It  is  related,  that 
upon  a  certain  occasion,  he  had  the  boldness  to  attempt 
the  pocket  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  that  the  danger  to 
which  he  was  then  exposed  determined  him  to  leave 
that  sneaking  trade,  and  in  a  genteel  manner  to  enter 
upon  the  honorable  profession  of  public  collector  on 
the  highway. 

He  entered  into  partnership  with  Tom  Cheney. 
Their  first  adventure  was  attacking  colonel  Hewson, 
who  had  raised  himself  by  his  merit  from  a  cobbler  to 
a  colonel.  He  was  riding  at  some  distance  from  his 
regiment  upon  Hounslow-heath,  and,  even  in  the  sight 
of  some  of  his  men,  these  two  rogues  robbed  him. 
The  pursuit  was  keen :  Tom's  horse  failing,  he  was 
apprehended,  but  Mulled  Sack  escaped.  The  prisoner, 
being  severely  wounded,  entreated  that  his  trial  might 
be  postponed  on  that  account.  But,  on  the  contrary, 
lest  he  should  die  of  his  wounds,  he  was  condemned 
at  two  o'clock,  and  executed  that  evening. 

One  Home  was  the  next  accomplice  of  Mulled  Sack. 
His  companions  were,  however,  generally  unfortunate. 
Upon  their  first  attempt,  Home  was  pursued,  taken, 
and  executed. 

Thus  twice  bereft  of  his  associates,  he  acted  alone, 
but  generally  committed  his  depredations  upon  the 
republican  party,  who  then  had  the  wealth  of  the  na- 
tion in  their  possession.  Informed  that  the  sum  of 
four  thousand  pounds  was  on  its  way  from  London,  to 
pay  the  regiments  of  Oxford  and  Gloucester,  he  con- 
cealed himself  behind  a  hedge  where  the  wagon  was 


MULLED  SACK-  49 

to  pass,  presented  his  pistols,  and  the  guard  supposing 
that  many  more  must  have  been  concealed,  fled,  and 
left  him  the  immense  prize. 

There  were  a  few  passengers  in  the  wagon,  who 
were  greatly  affrighted.  He,  however,  consoled  them, 
assuring  them  that  he  would  not  injure  them,  saying, 
;  This  which  I  have  taken  is  as  much  mine  as  theirs 
who  own  it,  being  all  extorted  from  the  public  by  the 
rapacious  members  of  our  commonwealth,  to  enrich 
themselves,  maintain  their  janizaries,  and  keep  honest 
peopb  in  subjection,  the  mosj;  effectual  way  to  do 
which  is  to  keep  them  very  poor." 

When  not  employed  as  a  chimney-sweep,  which 
profession  he  still  occasionally  pursued,  he  dressed  in 
high  style,  and  is  said  to  have  received  more  money 
by  robbery  than  any  man  in  that  age.  One  day, 
being  informed  that  the  receiver-general  was  to  send 
up  to  London  six  thousand  pounds,  he  entered  his  house 
the  night  before,  and  rendered  that  trouble  unneces- 
sary. Upon  the  noise  which  this  notorious  robbery 
occasioned,  Mulled  Sack  was  apprehended ;  but  through 
cunning,  baffling  the  evidence,  or  corrupting  the  jury, 
he  was  acquitted. 

In  a  little  time  after,  he  robbed  and  murdered  a 
gentleman,  and,  for  fear  of  detection,  went  to  the  con- 
tinent, and  was  introduced  into  the  court  of  Charles 
the  Second.  Upon  pretence  of  giving  information,  he 
came  home,  and  applied  to  Cromwell,  confessed  his 
crime,  but  proposed  to  purchase  his  life  by  important 
information.  But  whether  he  failed  in  his  promise,  or 
whether  Cromwell  thought  that  such  a  notorious 
offender  was  unworthy  to  live,  cannot  be  ascertained ; 
one  thing  is  certain,  that  he  was  tried  and  executed  in 
tho  forty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  in  the  month  of  April 
1659. 

E 


50 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  HIND. 

The  father  of  Hind  was  an  industrious  saddler,  a 
cheerful  companion,  and  a  good  Christian.  He  was  a 
native  of  Chipping  Norton,  Oxfordshire,  Where  James 
was  born.  As  our  hero  was  his  only  son,  he  received 
a  good  education,  and  remained  at  school  until  he  was 
fifteen  years  of  age. 

He  was  then  sent  as  an  apprentice  to  a  butcher  in  that 
place,  and  continued  in  that  employment  during  two 
years.  Upon  leaving  his  master's  service,  he  applied 
to  his  mother  for  money  to  bear  his  expenses  to  London, 
complaining  bitterly  of  the  rough  and  quarrelsome 
temper  of  his  master.  The  complying  mother  yielded, 
and,  giving  him  three  pounds,  she,  with  a  sorrowful 
heart,  took  farewell  of  her  beloved  son. 
,  Arrived  in  the  capital,  he  soon  contracted  a  relish 
for  the  pleasures  of  the  town.  His  bottle  and  a  female 
companion  became  his  principal  delight,  and  occupied 
the  greater  part  of  his  time.  He  was  unfortunately 
detected  one  evening  with  a  woman  of  the  town  who 
had  just  robbed  a  gentleman,  and  along  with  her  con- 
fined until  the  morning.  He  was  acquitted  because  no 
evidence  appeared  against  him,  but  his  fair  companion 
was  committed  to  Newgate. 

Captain  Hind,  soon  after  this  accident,  became  ac- 
quainted with  one  Allan,  a  famous  highwayman. 
While  partaking  of  a  bottle,  their  conversation  became 
mutually  so  agreeable  that  they  consented  to  unite 
their  fortunes.        ^ 

Their  measures  being  concerted,  they  set  out  in 
quest  of  plunder.  They  fortunately  met  a  gentleman 
and  his  servant  travelling  along  the  road.  Hind  being 
raw  and  inexperienced,  Allan  was  desirous  to  have  a 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  HIND.  51 

proof  of  his  courage  and  address ;  he,  therefore,  re- 
mained at  a  distance,  while  Hind  boldly  rode  up  to 
them  and  took  from  them  fifteen  pounds,  at  the  samp 
time  returning  one  to  bear  their  expenses  home.  This 
he  did  with  so  much  grace  and  pleasantry,  that  the 
gentleman  vowed  that  he  would  not  injure  a  hair  oi  his 
head  though  it  were  in  his  power. 

About  this  period,  the  unfortunate  Charles  I.  suffered 
death  for  his  political  principles.  Captain  Hind  con- 
ceived an  inveterate  enmity  to  all  those  who  had 
stained  their  hands  with  their  sovereign's  blood,  and 
gladly  embraced  every  opportunity  to  wreak  his  ven- 
geance upon  them.  In  a  short  time,  Allan  and  Hind 
met  with  the  usurper,  Oliver  Cromwell,  riding  from 
Huntingdon  to  London.  They  attacked  the  coach,  but 
Oliver  being  attended  by  seven  servants.  Allan  was 
apprehended,  and  it  was  with  no  small  difficulty  that 
Hind  made  his  escape.  The  unfortunate  Allan  was 
soon  after  tried,  and  suffered  death  for  his  audacity. 
The  only  effect  which  this  produced  upon  Hind  was 
to  render  him  more  cautious  in  his  future  depredations. 
He  could  not.  however,  think  of  abandoning  a  course, 
on  which  he  had  just  entered,  and  which  promised  so 
many  advantages. 

The  captain  had  ridden  so  hard  to  escape  from 
Cromwell  and  his  train  that  he  killed  his  horse,  and 
having  no  money  to  purchase  a  substitute,  he  was 
under  the  necessity  of  trying  his  fortune  upon  foot, 
until  he  should  find  means  to  procure  another.  It  was 
not  long  before  he  espied  a  horse  tied  to  a  hedge  with 
a  saddle  on  and  a  brace  of  pistols  attached  to  it.  He 
looked  round  and  observed  a  gentleman,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hedge.  "  This  is  my  horse,"  exclaimed  the 
captain,  and  immediately  vaulted  into  the  saddle. 
The  gentleman  called  out  to  him  that  the  horse  was 
his.  "Sir,"  said  Hind,  "you  may  think  yourself 
well  off  that  I  have  left  you  all  the  money  in  your 
pocket  to  buy  another,  which  you  had  best  lay  out 
before  I  meet  you  again,  lest  you  should  be  worse 
used."     So  saying,  he  rode  off  in  search  of  new  booty 


52  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

There  is  another  story  of  Hind's  ingenious  metnod 
of  supplying  himself  with  a  horse  upon  occasion.  It 
appears  that,  being  upon  a  second  extremity  reduced 
to  the  humble  station  of  a  footpad,  he  hired  a  sorry 
nag.  and  proceeded  on  his  journey.  He  was  overtaken 
by  a  gentleman  mounted  on  a  fine  hunter,  with  a  port- 
manteau behind  him.  They  entered  into  conversation 
upon  such  topics  as  are  common  to  travellers,  and 
Hind  was  very  eloquent  in  the  praise  of  the  gentle- 
man's horse,  which  inclined  the  other  to  descant  upon 
the  qualifications  of  the  animal.  There  was  upon  one 
side  of  the  road  a  wall,  which  the  gentleman  said  his 
horse  would  leap  over.  Hind  offered  to  risk  a  bottle 
on  it,  to  which  the  gentleman  agreed,  and  quickly 
made  his  horse  leap  over.  The  captain  acknowledged 
that  he  had  lost  his  wager,  but  requested  the  gentleman 
to  let  him  try  if  he  could  do  the  same;  to  which  he 
consented,  and  the  captain,  being  seated  in  the  saddle 
of  his  companion,  rode  off  at  full  speed  and  left  him  to 
return  the  other  miserable  animal  to  its  owner. 

At  another  time  the  captain  met  the  regicide  Hugh 
Peters  in  Enfield  chace,  and  commanded  him  to  deliver 
his  money.  Hugh,  who  was  not  deficient  in  confidence, 
Degan  to  combat  Hind  with  texts  of  scripture,  and  to 
cudgel  our  bold  robber  with  the  eighth  commandment: 
"  It  is  written  in  the  law,"  said  he,  "  that  '  Thou  shalt 
not  steal :'  and  furthermore,  Solomon,  who  was  surely 
a  very  wise  man,  spoke  in  this  manner,  '  Rob  not  the 
poor,  because  he  is  poor.'  "  Hind  was  desirous  to  an- 
swer him  in  his  own  strain,  and  for  that  purpose  began 
to  rub  up  his  memory  for  some  of  the  texts  he  had 
learned  when  at  school.  "  Verily,"  said  Hind,  "  if  thou 
hadst  regarded  the  divine  precepts  as  thou  oughtest  to 
have  done,  thou  wouldst  not  have  wrested  them  to 
such  an  abominable  and  wicked  sense  as  thou  didst 
the  words  of  the  prophet,  when  he  said,  '  Bind  their 
kings  with  chains,  and  their  nobles  with  fetters  of  iron.' 
Didst  thou  not  then,  detestable  hypocrite,  endeavor, 
from  these  words,  to  aggravate  the  misfortunes  of  thy 
royal  master,  whom  thy  cursed  republican  party  un- 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  HIND.  63 

»ustly  murdered  .before  the  gate  of  his  own  palace?" 
Here  Hugh  Peters  began  to  extenuate  that  proceeding, 
and  to  allege  other  parts  of  scripture  in  his  own  de- 
fence. "  Pray,  sir,"  replied  Hind,  "make  no  reflections 
against  men  of  my  profession,  for  Solomon  plainly 
said,  '  do  not  despise  a  thief.'  But  it  is  to  little  pur- 
pose for  us  to  dispute ;  the  substance  of  what  I  have  to 
say  is  this,  deliver  thy  money  presently,  or  else  I  shall 
send  thee  out  of  the  world  to  thy  master,  the  devil,  ill 
an  instant."  These  terrible  words  of  the  captain's  so 
terrified  the  old  Presbyterian,  that  he  forthwith  gave 
him  thirty  broad  pieces  of  gold  and  then  departed. 

But  Hind  was  not  satisfied  with  allowing  so  bitter 
an  enemy  to  the  royal  cause  to  depart  in  such  a  man- 
ner. He  accordingly  rode  after  him  at  full  speed,  and, 
overtaking  him,  addressed  him  in  the  following  lan- 
guage: — "Sir,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  am  convinced  this 
misfortune  has  happened  to  you  because  you  did  not 
obey  the  words  of  the  scripture,  which  expressly  says, 
'  provide  neither  gold,  nor  silver,  nor  brass,  in  your 
purses,  for  your  journey,'  whereas  it  is  evident  that 
you  had  provided  a  pretty  decent  quantity  of  gold. 
However,  as  it  is  now  in  my  power  to  make  you  fulfil 
another  commandment,  I  would  by  no  means  slip  the 
opportunity ;  therefore,  pray  give  me  your  cloak." 
Peters  was  so  surprised  that  he  neither  stood  still  to 
dispute  nor  to  examine  what  was  the  drift  of  Hind's 
demand.  But  he  soon  made  him  understand  his 
meaning,  when  he  added,  "You  know,  sir,  our  Sa- 
vior has  commanded,  that  if  any  man  take  away  thy 
cloak,  thou  must  not  refuse  thy  coat  also  ;  therefore,  1 
cannot  suppose  that  you  will  act  in  direct  contradiction 
to  such  an  express  command,  especially  as  you  cannot 
pretend  you  have  forgot  it,  seeing  that  I  now  remind 
you  of  that  duty."  The  old  Puritan  shrugged  his 
shoulders  some  time  before  he  proceeded  to  uncase 
them;  but  Hind  told  him  that  his  delay  would  be  of 
no  service  to  him,  for  he  would  be  implicitly  obeyed, 
because  he  was  sure  that  what  he  requested  was  en- 


54  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

tircly  consonant  with  the  scripture. ,  He  accordingly 
surrendered,  and  Hind  carried  off  the  cloak. 

The  following  sabbath,  when  Hugh  ascended  the 
pulpit,  he  was  inclined  to  pour  forth  an  invective 
against  stealing,  and  selected  for  his  subject  these 
words:  "I  have  put  off  my  coat,  hew  shall  I  put  it 
on?"  An  honest  plain  man,  who  was  present,  and 
knew  how  he  had  been  treated  by  the  robber,  promptly 
cried  out,  "  Upon  my  word,  sir,  I  believe  there  is  no- 
body here  can  tell  you,  unless  captain  Hind  were  here." 
Which  ready  answer  to  Hugh's  scriptural  question 
put  the  congregation  into  such  an  outrageous  fit  of 
laughter,  that  the  parson  was  made  to  blush,  and  de- 
scended from  his  pulpit,  without  prosecuting  the  sub- 
ject farther. 

The  captain,  as  before  mentioned,  indulged  a  rooted 
hatred  against  all  those  who  were  concerned  in  the 
murder  of  the  late  king;  and  frequently  these  men  fell 
in  his  way.  He  was  one  day  riding  on  the  road,  when 
president  Bradshaw,  who  had  sat  as  judge  upon  the 
king,  and  passed  the  sentence  of  death  upon  him,  met 
with  the  captain.  The  place  where  they  came  into 
collision  was  on  the  road  between  Sherbourne  and 
Shaftesbury.  Hind  rode  up  to  the  coach,  and  de- 
manded Bradshaw's  money,  who,  supposing  that  his 
very  name  would  convey  terror  along  with  it,  informed 
him  who  he  was.  "Marry,"  cried  Hind,  "1  neither 
fear  you  nor  any  king-killing  villain  alive.  1  have 
now  as  much  power  over  you,  as  you  lately  had  over 
the  king,  and  I  should  do  God  and  my  country  good 
service,  if  I  made  the  same  use  of  it;  but  live,  villain, 
to  suffer  the  pangs  of  thine  own  conscience,  till  justice 
shall  lay  her  iron  hand  upon  thee,  and  require  an  an- 
swer for  thy  crimes,  in  a  way  more  proper  for  such  a 
monster,  who  art  unworthy  to  die  by  any  hands  but 
those  of  the  common  hangman,  or  at  any  other  place 
than  Tyburn.  Nevertheless,  though  I  spare  thy  life  as 
a  regicide,  be  assured,  that  unless  thou  deliver  up  thy 
money  immediately,  thou  shalt  die  for  thy  obstinacy." 

Bradshaw  began  to  perceive  that  the  case  was  not 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  HIND.  55 

h**w  with  him  as  it  was  when  he  sat  at  VVestminster 
Hall,  supported  by  all  the  strength  of  the  rebellion. 
A  horror  took  possession  of  his  soul,  and  discovered 
itself  in  his  countenance.  He  put  his  trembling  hand 
into  his  pocket,  and  pulled  out  about  forty  shillings  in 
silver,  which  he  presented  to  the  captain,  who  swore 
he  would  that  minute  shoot  him  tn rough  the  heart, 
unless  he  found  him  coin  of  another  species.  To  save 
his  life,  the  sergeant  pulled  out  that  which  he  valued 
next  to  it,  and  presented  the  captain  with  a  purse  full 
of  Jacobuses. 

But  though  Hind  had  got  possession  of  the  cash,  he 
was  inclined  to  detain  the  sergeant  a  little  longer,  and 
began  the  following  eulogium  upon  the  value  of 
money : — 

"  This,  sir,  is  the  metal  that  wins  my  heart  forever ! 
O  precious  gold  !  I  admire  and  adore  thee  as  much  as 
either  Bradshaw,  Prynne,  or  any  other  villain  of  the 
same  stamp,  who,  for  the  sake  of  thee,  would  sell  his 
Redeemer  again,  were  he  now  upon  earth.  This  is 
that  incomparable  medicament,  which  the  republican 
physicians  call  the  wonder-working  plaster  ;  it  is  truly 
catholic  in  operation,  and  somewhat  of  kin  to  the 
Jesuit's  powder,  but  more  effectual.  The  virtues  of  it 
are  strange  and  various;  it  maketh  justice  deaf  as  well 
as  blind  ;  and  takes  out  spots  of  the  deepest  treasons 
as  easily  as  Castile  soap  does  common  stains;  it  alters 
a  man's  constitution  in  two  or  three  days,  more  than 
the  virtuoso's  transfusion  of  blood  can  do  in  seven  years. 
it  is  a  great  alexipharmic,  and  helps  poisonous  prin- 
ciples of  rebellion,  and  those  that  use  them;  it  miracu- 
lously exalts  and  purifies  the  eye-sight,  and  makes 
traitors  behold  nothing  but  innocence  in  the  blackest 
malefactors:  it  is  a  mighty  cordial  for  a  declining 
cause;  it  stifles  faction  and  schism  as  certainly  as  rats 
are  destroyed  by  common  arsenic:  in  a  word,  it  makes 
fools  wise  men,  and  wise  men  fools,  and  both  of  them 
knaves.  The  very  color  of  this  precious  balm  is  bright 
and  dazzling.  If  it  be  properly  applied  to  the  fist,  that 
is,  in  a  decent  manner,  and  in  a  competent  dose,   it 

3 


56  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAx'MEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

infallibly  performs  all  the  above-mentioned  cures,  and 
many  others  too  numerous  to  be  here  mentioned." 

The  captain,  having  finished  his  panegyric  upon  the 
virtues  of  the  glittering  metal,  pulled  out  his  pistol, 
and  again  addressed  the  Serjeant,  saying,  "  You  and 
your  infernal  crew  have  a  long  while  run  on,  like 
Jehu,  in  a  career  of  blood  and  impiety,  falsely  pre- 
tending that  zeal  for  the  Lord  of  Hosts  has  been  your 
only  motive.  How  long  you  may  be  suffered  to  con- 
tinue in  the  same  course,  God  only  knows.  I  will, 
however,  for  this  time,  stop  your  race  in  a  literal  sense 
of  the  word."  And  without  farther  delay,  he  shot  all 
the  six  horses  that  were  in  the  carriage,  and  left  Brad- 
shaw  to  ponder  upon  the  lesson  he  had  received. 

Hind's  next  adventure  was  with  a  company  of  la- 
dies, in  a  coach  upon  the  road  between  Petersfield  and 
Portsmouth.  He  accosted  them  in  a  polite  manner, 
and  informed  them  that  he  was  a  protector  of  the  fair 
sex,  and  it  was  purely  to  win  the  favor  of  a  hard- 
hearted mistress  that  he  had  travelled  the  country. 
"But,  ladies,"  added  he,  "I  am  at  this  time  reduced 
to  the  necessity  of  asking  relief,  having  nothing  to 
carry  me  on  in  the  intended  prosecution  of  my  adven- 
tures." The  young  ladies,  who  had  read  many  ro- 
mances, could  not  help  concluding  that  they  had  met 
with  some  Quixote  or  Amadis  de  Gaul,  who  was  sa- 
luting them  in  the  strains  of  knight-errantry.  "  Sir 
knight,"  said  one  of  the  most  jocular  of  the  company, 
"  we  heartily  commiserate  your  condition,  and  are 
very  much  troubled  that  we  cannot  contribute  towards 
your  support;  for  we  have  nothing  about  us  but  a 
sacred  depositum,  which  the  laws  of  your  order  will 
not  suffer  you  to  violate."  The  captain  was  much 
pleased  at  having  met  with  such  a  pleasant  lady,  and 
was  much  inclined  to  have  permitted  them  to  proceed ; 
but  his  necessities  were  at  this  time  very  urgent. 
"  May  I,  bright  ladies,  be  favored  with  the  knowledge 
of  what  this  sacred  depositum,  which  you  speak  of,  is, 
that  so  I  may  employ  my  utmost  abilities  in  its  defence, 
as   the   laws  of  knight-errantry  require."     The  lady 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  HIND.  57 

who  had  spoken  before  told  him,  that  the  depositum 
she  had  spoken  of  was  3000/.  the  portion  of  one  of  the 
company,  who  was  going  to  bestow  it  upon  the  knight 
who  had  won  her  good-will  by  his  many  past  services. 
"Present  my  humble  duty  to  the  knight,"  said  he,  . 
"  and  be  pleased  to  tell  him  that  my  name  is  captain 
Hind  ;  that  out  of  mere  necessity  I  have  made  bold  to 
borrow  part  of  what,  for  his  sake,  I  wish  were  twice 
as  much ;  that  I  promise  to  expend  the  sum  in  defence 
of  injured  lovers,  and  in  the  support  of  gentlemen  who 
profess  knight-errantry."  Upon  the  name  of  captain 
Hind,  the  fair  ones  were  sufficiently  alarmed,  as  his 
name  was  well  known  all  over  England.  He,  how- 
ever, requested  them  not  to  be  affrighted,  for  he  would 
not  do  them  the  least  injury,  and  only  requested  1000/. 
of  the  3000/.  As  the  money  was  bound  up  in  several 
parcels,  the  request  was  instantly  complied  with,  and 
our  adventurer  wished  them  a  prosperous  journey,  and 
many  happy  days  to  the  bride. 

Taking  leave  of  the  captain  for  a  little,  we  shall 
inform  our  readers  of  the  consequences  of  this  extorted 
loan  of  the  captain's.  When  the  bride  arrived  at  the 
dwelling  of  her  intended  husband,  she  faithfully  re- 
counted to  him  her  adventures  upon  the  road.  The 
avaricious  and  embryo  curmudgeon  refused  to  accept 
her  hand  until  her  father  should  agree  to  make  up  the 
loss.  Partly  because  he  detested  the  request  of  the 
lover,  and  partly  because  he  had  sufficiently  exhausted 
his  funds,  the  father  refused  to  comply.  The  pretended 
lover,  therefore,  declined  her  hand,  because  it  was 
emptied  of  the  third  part  of  her  fortune;  and  the 
affectionate  and  high  spirited  lady  died  of  a  broken 
heart.  Hind  often  declared,  that  this  adventure  caused 
him  great  uneasiness,  while  it  filled  him  with  detes- 
tation at  the  dishonorable  and  base  conduct  of  the 
mercenary  lover. 

The  transactions  of  Hind  were  now  become  so  nu- 
merous, and  made  him  so  well  known,  that  he  was 
forced  to  conceal  himself  in  the  country.  During  this 
cessation  iiom  his  usual  industrious  labors,  his  funds 


58  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

• 

became  so  exhausted,  that  even  his  horse  was  sold  to 
maintain  his  own  life.  Impelled  by  necessity,  he  often 
resolved  to  hazard  a  few  movements  upon  the  high- 
way; but  he  had  resided  so  long  in  that  quarter,  that 
he  durst  not  risk  any  such  adventure.  Fortune,  how- 
ever, commiserated  the  condition  of  the  captain,  and 
provided  relief.  He  was  informed  that  a  doctor,  who 
resided  in  the  neighborhood,  had  gone  to  receive  a 
handsome  fee  for  a  cure  which  he  had  effected.  The 
captain  then  lived  in  a  small  house  which  he  had 
hired  upon  the  side  of  a  common,  and  which  the  doctor 
had  to  pass  in  his  journey  home.  Hind,  having  long 
and  impatiently  waited  his  arrival,  ran  up  to  him,  and 
in  the  most  piteous  tone  and  suppliant  language,  told 
the  doctor  his  wife  was  suddenly  seized  with  illness, 
and  that  unless  she  got  some  assistance  she  would 
certainly  perish,  and  entreated  him  just  to  tarry  for  a 
minute  or  two  and  lend  her  his  medical  assistance,  and 
heVould  gratefully  pay  him  for  his  trouble  as  soon  as 
it  was  in  his  power. 

The  tender-hearted  doctor,  moved  with  compassion, 
alighted  and  accompanied  him  into  his  house,  assuring 
him  that  he  should  be  very  happy  to  be  of  any  service 
in  restoring  his  wife  to  health.  Hind  showed  the 
doctor  up-stairs;  but  they  had  no  sooner  entered  the 
door,  than  lie  locked  it,  presented  a  pistol,  showing,  at 
the  same  time,  his  empty  purse,  saying:  "This  is 
my  wife ;  she  has  so  long  been  unwell,  that  there  is 
now  nothing  at  all  within  her.  I  know,  sir,  that  you 
have  a  sovereign  remedy  in  your  pocket  for  her  dis- 
temper, and  if  you  do  not  apply  it  without  a  word, 
this  pistol  will  make  the  day  shine  into  your  body !" 
The  doctor  would  have  been  content  to  have  lost  his 
fee,  upon  condition  of  being  delivered  from  the  impor- 
tunities of  his  patient;  but  it  required  only  a  small  de- 
gree of  the  knowledge  of  symptoms  to  be  convinced, 
that  obedience  was  the  only  thing  which  remained  for 
him  to  observe:  he  therefore  emptied  his  own  purse 
of  forty  guineas  into  that  of  the  captain,  and  thus  left 
our  hero's  wife  in  a  convalescent  state.     Hind  then 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  HIND.  59 

informed  the  doctor,  that  he  would  leave  him  id  pos- 
session of  his  whole  house,  to  reimburse  him  f  >r  the 
money  which  lie  had  taken  from  him.  £o  saying,  he 
locked  the  cbor  upon  the  doctor,  mounted  'hat  geot.> 
man's  horse,  and  went  in  quest  of  another  county, 
since  this  had  become  too  hot  for  him. 

Hind  has  been  often  celebrated  for  his  generosity  to 
the  poor;  and  the  following  is  a  remarkable  instance 
of  his  virtue  in  that  particular.  He  was  upon  one 
occasion  extremely  destitute  of  cash,  and  had  wailed 
long  upon  the  road  without  receiving  any  supply.  An 
old  man,  jogging  along  upon  an  ass.  at  length  appeared. 
He  rode  up  to  him,  and  very  politely  inquired  where 
he  was  going.  "  To  the  market,"  said  the  old  man 
"  at  Wantage,  to  buy  me  a  cow,  that  I  may  have  some 
milk  for  my  children."  "How  many  children  have 
you?"  The  old  man  answered,  "  Ten."  "And  how 
much  do  you  mean  to  give  for  a  cow?"  said  Hind. 
"I  have  but  forty  shillings,  master,  and  that  I  have 
been  scraping  together  these  two  years."  Hind's  heart 
ached  for  the  poor  man's  condition;  at  the  same  time 
he  could  not  help  admiring  his  simplicity ;  but.  being 
in  absolute  want  himself,  he  thought  of  an  expedient 
which  would  serve  both  himself  and  the  poor  old  man. 
"Father,"  said  he,  "the  money  which  you  have  is 
necessary  for  me  at  this  time :  but  T  will  not  wrong 
your  children  of  their  milk.  My  name  is  Hind,  and 
if  you  will  give  me  your  forty  shillings  quietly,  and 
meet  me  again  this  day  se'nnight  at  this  place,  I  pro- 
mise to  make  the  sum  double."  The  old  man  reluc- 
tantly consented,  and  Hind  enjoined  him  to  "be  cau- 
tious not  to  mention  a  word  of  the  matter  to  any  body 
between  this  and  that  time."  The  old  man  came  at 
the  appointed  time,  and  received  as  much  as  would 
purchase  two  cows,  and  twenty  shillings  more,  that  he 
might  thereby  have  the  best  in  the  market. 

Though  Hind  had  long  frequented  the  road,  yet  he 
carefully  avoided  shedding  blood;  and  the  following 
is  the  only  instance  of  this  nature  related  of  him.  He 
had   one   morning  committed   several    robberies,    and 


60  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROSBESS. 

among  others,  had  taken  more  than  70Z.  from  colonel 
Harrison,  the  celebrated  parliamentary  general.  As 
the  Roundheads  were  Hind's  inveterate  foes,  the  colo- 
nel immediately  raised  the  hue-and-cry  after  him, 
which  was  circulated  in  that  part  Of  the  country  be- 
fore the  captain  was  aware  of  it.  At  last,  however, 
he  received  intelligence  at  one  of  the  inns  upon  the 
road,  and  made  every  possible  haste  to  fly  the  scene 
of  danger.  In  this  situation  the  captain  was  apprehen- 
sive of  every  person  he  met  upon  the  road.  He  had 
reached  a  place  called  Knowl  Hill,  when  the  servant 
of  a  gentleman,  who  was  following  his  master,  came 
riding  at  full  speed  behind  him.  Hind,  supposing  that 
it  was  one  in  pursuit  of  himself,  upon  his  coming  up, 
turned  about,  and  shot  him  through  the  head,  when 
the  unfortunate  man  fell  dead  upon  the  spot.  Fortune 
favored  the  captain  at  this  time,  and  he  got  off  in 
safety. 

The  following  adventure  closes  the  narrative  of 
Hind's  busy  life.  After  Charles  I.  was  beheaded,  the 
Scots  remained  loyal,  proclaimed  his  son  Charles  II., 
and  resolved  to  maintain  his  right  against  the  usurper. 
They  suddenly  raised  an  army,  and  entering  England, 
proceeded  as  far  as  Worcester.  Multitudes  of  the 
English  joined  the  royal  army,  and  among  these  cap- 
tain Hind,  who  was  loyal  from  principle,  and  brave 
by  nature.  Cromwell  was  sent  by  Parliament  with 
an  army  to  intercept  the  march  of  the  royalists.  Both 
armies  met  at  Worcester,  and  a  desperate  and  bloody 
battle  ensued.  The  king's  army  was  routed.  Captain 
Hind  had  the  good  fortune  to  escape,  and,  reaching 
London,  lived  in  a  retired  situation.  Here,  however, 
he  had  not  remained  long,  when  he  was  betrayed  by 
one  of  his  intimate  acquaintances.  It  will  readily  be 
granted  that  his  actions  merited  death  by  the  law  of 
his  country,  but  the  mind  recoils  with  horror  from  the 
thought  of  treachery  in  an  intimate  friend. 

Hind  was  carried  before  the  speaker  of  the  house 
of  commons,  and,  after  a  long  examination,  was  com- 
mitted to  Newgate  and  loaded  with  irons :  nor  was 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS.  61 

any  person  allowed  to  converse  with  him  without  a 
special  permission.  He  was  brought  to  the  bar  of  the 
session-house  at  the  Old  Bailey,  indicted  for  several 
crimes,  but,  for  want  of  sufficient  evidence,  nothing 
worthy  of  death  could  be  proved  against  him.  Not 
long  after  this,  he  was  sent  down  to  Reading  under  a 
strong  guard,  and,  being  arraigned  before  judge  War- 
burton,  for  killing  George  Symson  at  Knowl  Hill,  as 
formerly  mentioned,  he  was  convicted  of  wilful  mur- 
der. An  act  of  indemnity  for  all  past  offences  was 
issued  at  this  time,  and  he  hoped  to  have  been  in- 
cluded; but  an  order  of  council  removed  him  to  Wor- 
cester gaol,  where  he  was  condemned  for  high  treason, 
and  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered,  on  the  24th  Sep- 
tember 1652,  aged  thirty-four  years.  His  head  was 
stuck  upon  the  top  of  the  bridge  over  the  Severn,  and 
the  other  parts  of  his  body  placed  upon  the  gates  of 
the  city.  The  head  was  privately  taken  down  and 
interred,  but  the  remaining  parts  of  his  body  remained 
until  consumed  by  the  influence  of  the  weather. 

In  his  last  moments  he  declared  that  his  principal 
depredations  had  been  committed  against  the  republican 
party,  and  that  he  was  sorry  for  nothing  so  much  as 
not  living  to  see  his  royal  master  restored.. 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS. 

Though  this  remarkable  female  character  was  de- 
nominated a  German  Princess,  for  a  reason  which  will 
be  mentioned  in  the  course  of  her  narrative,  she  was  a 
native  of  Canterbury,  and  her  father  a  chorister  of  that 
cathedral.  From  her  sprightly  and  volatile  disposition, 
she  at  an  early  period  took  delight  in  reading  the 
novels  that  were  at  that  time  fashionable, — such  as 
Parismus  and  Parismanus,  Don  Bellianis  of  Greece, 
Amadis  de  Gaul,  and  Cassandra  and  Cleopatra ;  and 

F 


62  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

in  a  little  time  really  believed  what  she  wished,  even 
that  she  was  a  princess. 

But  in  her  marriage  she  lost  sight  of  her  exalted 
conceptions,  and  united  her  fortune  with  a  journeyman 
shoemaker.  She  resided  with  him  until  she  had  two 
children,  who  both  died  in  their  infancy.  The  indus- 
trious shoemaker  was  unable  to  support  her  extrava- 
gance, so  that  she  at  last  left  him,  to  seek  her  fortune 
elsewhere. 

A  woman  of  her  figure,  beauty,  and  address,  was 
not  long  before  she  procured  another  husband.  She 
went  to  Dover,  and  married  a  surgeon  of  that  place, 
but,  being  apprehended  and  tried  at  Maidstone  for 
having  two  husbands,  by  some  dexterous  manoeuvre 
she  was  acquitted. 

She  presently  after  embarked  for  Holland,  and  tra- 
velled by  land  to  Cologne,  and  having  a  considerable 
sum  of  money,  took  handsome  lodgings  at  a  house  of 
entertainment,  and  cut  a  dashing  figure.  As  it  is  cus- 
tomary for  the  gentry  in  England  to  frequent  Brighton 
during  the  season,  so  it  was  then  customary  for  those 
in  Germany  to  frequent  the  Spa.  Our  heroine  went 
thithei,  and  was  addressed  by  an  old  gentleman  who 
had  a  good  estate  in  the  vicinity.  With  the  assistance 
of  her  landlady,  she  managed  this  affair  with  great 
art.  The  old  gentleman  presented  her  with  several 
fine  jewels,  besides  a  gold  chain  and  costly  medal, 
which  had  been  given  him,  for  some  gallant,  action 
under  count  Tilly,  against  the  valiant  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus  of  Sweden.  He  at  length  began  to  press  matri- 
mony with  all  the  keenness  of  a  young  lover,  and, 
unable  to  resist  the  siege  any  longer,  she  consented  to 
make  him  happy  in  three  days.  Meanwhile,  he  sup- 
plied her  with  money  in  great  profusion,  and  she  was 
requested  to  prepare  what  things  she  pleased  for  the 
wedding.  The  Princess  now  deemed  it  high  time  to 
be  gone,  and,  to  secure  her  retreat,  acquainted  her 
landlady  with  her  design.  Having  already  shared 
largely  of  the  spoils  that  our  adventurer  had  received 
from  her  old  doating  lover,  the  aged  beldame,  in  hopes 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS.  63 

of  pillaging  him  a  little  more,  encouraged  and  aided 
her  flight.  Our  heroine  requested  her  to  go  and  pro- 
vide her  a  seat  in  a  carriage  which  took  a  different 
road  from  that  of  Cologne,  as  she  did  not  wish  that 
her  lover  should  be  able  to  trace  her  route.  When  our 
Princess  found  herself  alone,  she  broke  open  a  chest  in 
which  the  good  woman  had  deposited  all  her  share 
of  the  spoil  that  she  had  received  from  our  heroine,  as 
well  as  her  own  money.  Madame  made  free  with  all, 
and  took  her  passage  to  Utrecht,  from  thence  went  to 
Amsterdam,  sold  her  chains  and  some  jewels,  and 
then  passed  into  Rotterdam,  from  whence  she  speedily 
embarked  for  England. 

She  landed  at  Billingsgate,  one  morning  very  early 
in  the  end  of  March  1663,  and  found  no  house  open 
until  she  came  to  the  Exchange  inn,  where  she  at- 
tained to  the  dignity  of  a  German  princess  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner.  In  this  inn,  she  got  into  the  company 
of  some  gentlemen  who,  she  perceived,  were  full  of 
money,  and  these  addressing  her  in  a  rude  manner, 
she  began  to  weep  most  bitterly,  exclaiming  that  it 
was  extremely  hard  for  her  to  be  reduced  to  this  ex- 
treme distress,  who  was  once  a  princess.  Here  she 
recited  the  story  of  her  extraction  and  education,  and 
much  about  her  pretended  father,  the  lord  Henry 
Vanwolway,  a  prince  of  the  empire,  and  independent 
of  every  man  but  his  Imperial  Majesty.  M  Certainly," 
said  she,  "  any  gentleman  here  present  may  conceive 
what  a  painful  situation  this  must  be  to  me  to  be  thus 
reduced,  brought  up  as  1  have  been  under  the  care  of 
an  indulgent  father,  and  in  all  the  luxuries  of  a  court. 
But,  alas!  what  do  I  say? — Indulgent  father!  was 
it  not  his  cruelty  which  banished  me,  his  only  daugh- 
ter, from  his  dominions,  merely  for  marrying,  without 
his  knowledge, -a  nobleman  of  the  court  whom  I  loved 
to  excess?  Was  it  not  my  fa '-her  who  occasioned  my 
dear  lord  and  husband  to  be  cut  off  in  the  bloom  of  his 
age,  by  falsely  accusing  him  of  a  design  against  his 
person, — a  deed  which  his  virtuous  soul  abhorred  ?" 
Here  she  pretended  that  the  poignancy  of  her  feelings 


64  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS 

would  allow  her  to  relate  no  more  of  her  unfortunate 
history. 

The  whole  company  was  touched  with  compassion 
at  the  melancholy  tale,  which  she  related  with  so  much 
unaffected  simplicity,  that  they  had  not  a  doubt  of  its 
truth.  Compassionating  her  unfortunate  situation, 
they  requested  her  acceptance  of  all  the  money  they 
had  about  them,  promising  to  return  again  with  more. 
They  were  as  good  as  their  promise,  and  she  ever  after 
went  by  the  name  of  the  unfortunate  German  Princess. 

The  man  who  kept  the  inn,  knowing  that  she  was 
come  from  the  continent,  and  seeing  that  she  had  great 
riches  about  her,  was  disposed  more  than  ever  to  be- 
lieve the  truth  of  her  story-  Nor  was  Madame  back- 
ward to  inform  him,  that  she  had  collected  all  that  she 
possessed  from  the  benevolent  contributions  of  neigh- 
boring princes,  who  knew  and  pitied  her  misfortunes. 
M  Nor  durst  any  one  of  them,"  continued  she,  "  let  my 
father  know  what  they  had  done,  or  where  I  am,  for 
he  was  so  much  more  powerful  than  any  of  them, 
that  if  he  understood  that  anv  one  favored  me,  he 
would  instantly  make  war  upon  them." 

King,  the  innkeeper,  being  convinced  of  her  rank 
and  fortune,  John  Carleton,  his  brother-in-law,  no 
doubt  receiving  proper  information  from  King,  became 
enamored  of  the  Princess,  and  presumed  to  pay  his 
addresses  to  her.  She  was  highly  displeased  at  first, 
but,  fiom  his  importunity,  was  at  last  prevailed  upon 
to  descend  from  her  station,  and  receive  the  hand  of  a 
common  man.  Poor  Carleton  thought  himself  the 
happiest  of  mortals,  in  being  thus  so  highly  honored 
by  a  union  with  such  an  accomplished  and  amiable 
princess,  possessed  of  an  ample  fortune,  though  far 
inferior  to  what  she  had  a  right  to  expect  from  her 
noble  birth. 

But,  during  this  dream  of  pleasure,  Mr.  King  re- 
ceived a  letter,  informing  him,  that  the  woman  who 
resided  at  his  house,  and  was  married  to  his  brother- 
in-law,  was  an  impostor,  that  she  had  already  been 
married  to  two  husbands,  and  had  eloped  with  all  the 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS.  65 

money  she  could  lay  her  hands  on  :  and  that  the  writer 
said  nothing  but  what  could  be  proved  by  the  most 
unquestionable  evidence  in  a  court  of  justice.  The 
consequence  was,  that  a  prosecution  was  instituted 
against  her  for  polygamy;  but  from  insufficient  evi- 
dence she  was  acquitted. 

She  was  then  introduced  as  an  actress  among  the 
players,  and  by  them  supported  for  some  time.  Upon 
the  strength  of  her  popularity  the  house  was  often 
crowded,  and  the  public  curiosity  was  excited  by, a 
woman  who  had  made  such  a  figure  in  the  world,  and 
was  receiving  great  applause  in  her  dramatic  capacity. 
She  generally  appeared  in  characters  suited  to  her 
habits  of  life,  and  those  scenes  which  had  been  ren- 
dered familiar  to  her  by  former  deception  and  intrigues. 
But  what  tended  chiefly  to  promote  her  fame,  was  a 
play  called  the  "German  Princess,"  written  principally 
upon  her  account,  in  which  she  spoke  the  following 
prologue  in  such  a  manner  as  gained^  universal  ap- 
plause. 

I  've  passed  one  trial,  but  it  is  my  fear 

I  shall  receive  a  rigid  sentence  here : 

You  think  me  a  bold  cheat,  but  case  't  were  so, 

"Which  of  you  are  not  ?    Now  you  'd  swear,  I  know ; 

But  do  not,  lest  that  you  deserve  to  be 

Censured  worse  than  you  can  censure  me ; 

The  world  's  a  cheat,  and  we  that  move  in  it 

In  our  degrees  do  exercise  our  wit; 

And  better  't  is  to  get  a  glorious  name, 

However  got,  than  live  by  common  fame. 

The  Princess  had  too  much  mercury  in  her  consti- 
tution to  remain  long  within  the  bounds  of  a  theatre, 
when  London  itself  was  too  limited  for  her  volatile 
disposition.  She  did  not,  however,  leave  the  theatre 
until  she  had  procured  many  admirers.  Her  history 
was  well  known,  as  well  as  her  accomplishments  and 
her  gallantry,  and  introduced  her  into  company.  She 
was  easy  of  access,  but  in  society  carried  herself  with 
an  affected  air  of  indifference. 

There  were  two  young  beaux,  in  particular,  who 
had  more  money  in  their  pockets  than  wit  in  their 


66  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

heads;  and  from  the  scarcity  of  that  commodity  in 
themselves,  they  the  more  admired  her  wit  and  humor. 
She  encouraged  their  addresses  until  she  had  extracted 
about  three  hundred  pounds  from  each  of  them,  and 
then  observing  their  funds  were  nearly  exhausted,  dis- 
carded them  both,  saying,  she  was  astonished  at  their 
impudence,  in  making  love  to  a  princess! 

Her  next  lover  was  an  old  gentleman  about  fifty, 
who  saw  her,  and  though  he  was  acquainted  with  her 
history,  nevertheless  resolved  to  be  at  the  expense  of 
some  hundreds  a  year,  provided  she  would  consent  to 
live  with  him.  To  gain  his  purpose  he  sent  her  several 
rich  presents,  which,  with  seeming  reluctance,  she 
accepted.  When  they  commenced  living  together  as 
man  and  wife,  she  so  accommodated  herself  to  his 
temper  and  disposition  that  he  was  constantly  making 
her  rich  presents,  which  were  always  accepted  with 
apparent  reluctance,  as  laying  her  under  so  many  obli- 
gations. In  this  manner  they  continued,  until  her 
doating  lover  one  evening  coming  home  intoxicated, 
she  thought  it  a  proper  opportunity  to  decamp.  So 
soon  as  he  was  asleep,  she  rifled  his  pockets,  and  found 
his  pocket-book,  containing  a  bill  for  a  hundred  pounds, 
and  some  money.  She  also  stripped  him  of  his  watch, 
and,  taking  his  keys,  opened  his  coffers,  and  carried 
off  every  thing  that  suited  her  purpose.  She  next 
went  and  presented  the  bill,  and,  as  the  acceptor  knew 
her,  received  the  money  without  hesitation. 

Having  thus  fleeced  her  old  lover,  our  German  prin- 
cess took  up  lodgings  in  a  convenient  place,  under  the 
character  of  a  young  lady  with  a  thousand  pounds, 
whose  father  was  able  to  give  her  twice  as  much ;  but 
disliking  a  person  whom  he  had  provided  as  a  husband 
for  her,  she  had  left  her  father's  house,  and  did  not 
wish  to  be  discovered  by  any  of  her  friends.  Madame 
now  continued  to  have  different  letters  sent  her  from 
time  to  time,  containing  an  account  of  all  the  news 
concerning  her  father  and  lover.  These  were  left 
carelessly  about  the  room,  and  her  landlady  reading 
them,  became  confirmed  in  the  belief  of  her  story. 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS.  67 

This  woman  had  a  rich  nephew,  a  young  man,  who, 
having  been  introduced  to  her  acquaintance,  became 
enamored  of  her,  and  to  gain  her  favor  presented  her 
with  a  gold  watch,  which  she  could  hardly  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  accept.  Her  lover  already  thought  the 
door  of  paradise  open  to  him,  and  their  amour  pro- 
ceeded with  all  the  mutual  felicity  that  young  lovers 
can  expect  or  desire.  But  in  this  season  of  bliss,  a 
porter  knocked  at  the  door  with  a  letter.  Her  maid, 
as  previously  directed,  brought  the  letter  in  to  her. 
which  she  had  no  sooner  read,  than  she  exclaimed,  "  1 
am  undone  !  I  am  ruined  !" — and  pretended  to  swoon 
away.  The  scent  bottle  was  employed,  and  her  en- 
raptured lover  was  all  kindness  and  attention.  When 
she  was  a  little  recovered,  she  presented  the  letter, 
saying,  "  Sir,  since  you  are  at  last  acquainted  with 
most  of  my  concerns,  I  shall  not  make  a  secret  of  this; 
therefore,  if  you  please,  read  this  letter  and  know  the 
occasion  of  my  affliction."  The  young  gentleman  re- 
ceived it,  and  read  as  follows : 

u  Dear  Madam, 

"  I  have  several  times  taken  my  pen  in  my  hand,  on 
purpose  to  write  you,  and  as  often  laid  it  aside  again, 
for  fear  of  giving  you  more  trouble  than  you  already 
labor  under.  However,  as  the  affair  so  immediately 
concerns  yon,  I  cannot  in  justice  hide  what  I  tremblr 
to  disclose,  but  must  in  duty  tell  you  the  worst  of 
news,  whatever  may  be  the  consequence  of  my  s< 
doing. 

u  Know,  then,  that  your  affectionate  and  tender 
brother  is  dead.  I  am  sensible  how  dear  he  was  to 
you,  and  you  to  him,  yet  let  me  entreat  you,  for  your 
own  sake,  to  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  Providence  as 
much  as  possible,  since  our  lives  are  all  at  his  disposal 
who  gave  us  being.  I  could  use  another  argument  to 
comfort  you,  that,  with  a  sister  less  loving  than  you, 
would  be  of  more  weight  than  that  I  have  urged  ;  but 
1  know  your  soul  is  above  all  mercenary  views.  I 
cannot,   however,  forbear  to  inform  you,  that  he  has 


b8  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

left  you  all  he  had  ;  and  farther,  that  your  father's 
estate  of  200/.  per  annum,  can  devolve  upon  no  other 
person  than  yourself,  who  are  now  his  only  child. 

"  What  1  am  next  to  acquaint  you  with  may,  per- 
haps, be  almost  as  bad  as  the  former  particular.  Your 
hated  lover  has  been  so  importunate  with  yonr  father, 
especially  since  your  brother's  decease,  that  the  old 
gentleman  resolves,  if  ever  he  should  hear  of  you  any 
more,  to  marry  you  to  him,  and  he  makes  this  the 
condition  of  your  being  again  received  into  his  favor, 
and  having  your  former  disobedience,  as  he  calls  it, 
forgiven.  While  your  brother  lived,  he  was  every  day 
endeavoring  to  soften  the  heart  of  your  father,  and  we 
were  only  last  week  in  hopes  he  would  have  consented 
to  let  yon  follow  your  inclinations,  if  you  would  come 
home  to  him  again;  but  now  there  is  no  advocate  in 
your  cause  who  can  work  upon  the  man's  peevish' 
temper ;  for  he  says,  as  you  are  now  his  sole  heir,  he 
ought  to  be  more  resolute  in  the  disposal  of  you  in 
marriage. 

"  While  I  am  now  writing,  I  am  surprised  with  an 
account  that  your  father  and  lover  are  preparing  to 
come  to  London,  where,  they  say,  they  can  find  you 
out.  Whether  or  not  this  be  only  a  device,  I  cannot 
tell,  nor  can  I  conceive  where  they  could  receive  their 
information,  if  it  be  true.  However,  to  prevent  the 
worst,  consider  whether  or  not  you  can  cast  off  your 
old  aversion,  and  submit  to  your  father's  commands; 
for  if  you  cannot,  it  will  be  most  advisable  in  my 
opinion  to  change  your  residence.  I  have  no  more  to 
say  in  the  affair,  being  unwilling  to  direct  you  in  such 
a  very  nice  circumstance.  The  temper  of  your  own 
mind  will  be  the  best  instructer  you  can  apply  to;  for 
your  future  happiness  or  misery  during  life  depends 
on  yonr  choice.  I  hope  that  every  thing  will  turn  out 
for  the  best. 

"  From  your  sincere  friend,  S.  E." 

Her  lover  saw  that  she  had  good  reason  to  bo 
afflicted,  and,  whilst  he  seemed  to  feel  for  her,  he  was 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS.  69 

no  less  concerned  about  his  own  interest.  He  advised 
her  immediately  to  leave  her  lodgings,  and  added  that 
he  had  very  elegant  apartments  which  were  at  her 
service.  She  accepted  his  offer;  and,  with  her  maid, 
who  was  informed  of  her  intentions,  and  prepared  to 
assist  her,  immediately  set  out  for  the  residence  of  her 
lover.  When  introduced  to  their  new  apartment,  these 
ladies  did  not  go  to  bed,  as  they  had  resolved  to  depart 
next  morning,  but  lay  down  to  rest  themselves  with 
their  clothes  on.  When  the  house  was  all  quiet,  they 
broke  open  the  lover's  desk,  took  out  a  bag  with  a 
hundred  pounds,  two  suits  of  clpthes,  and  every  thing 
valuable  that  they  could  carry  along  with  them. 

Her  numerous  and  varied  adventures  would  far  ex- 
ceed the  limits  appropriated  to  one  life  in  this  vo- 
lume. It  is  sufficient  to  observe,  that  rather  than  her 
hands  should  be  unemployed,  or  her  avaricious  dispo- 
sition unsatisfied,  she  would  carry  off  the  most  trifling 
article ;  that,  according  to  the  proverb,  all  was  fish 
that  came  into  her  net;  and  that  when  a  watch,  a 
diamond,  or  piece  of  plate  could  not  be  found,  a  napkin, 
a  pair  of  sheets,  or  any  article  of  wearing  apparel, 
would  suffice. 

One  day  she,  along  with  her  pretended  maid,  went 
into  a  mercer's  shop  in  Cheapside,  and  purchased  a 
piece  of  silk  to  the  value  of  six  pounds.  She  pulled  out 
her  purse  to  pay  the  draper,  but  to  her  surprise  found 
that  she  had  no  money  except  some  large  pieces  of 
gold,  for  which  she  had  so  high  an  esteem,  that  she 
could  not  think  of  parting  with  them.  The  polite 
draper,  on  his  part,  could  not  think  of  hurting  the 
feelings  of  a  lady  so  elegantly  dressed,  and,  accord- 
ingly, dispatched  one  of  his  shopkeepers  along  with 
her  to  receive  his  money.  Arrived  at  the  Royal  Ex- 
change, Madame  ordered  the  coachman  to  stop,  when, 
upon  pretence  of  purchasing  some  ribands  that  would 
suit  the  silks,  her  maid  carried  out  the  parcel,  and 
went  along  with  her,  leaving  the  shopman  in  the  coach 
to  wait  their  return.  The  young  man  waited  in  the 
coach,  until  he  was  impatient  and  ashamed,  and  then 


LTVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

returned  home  to  relate  his  misfortunes,  and  the  loss 
of  his  master. 

Upon  another  occasion  Madame  waited  upon  a 
French  weaver  in  Spitalfields,  and  purchased  goods  to 
the  amount  of  forty  pounds.  He  went  home  with  her 
to  carry  the  parcel  and  to  receive  his  money.  She  de- 
sired him  to  make  out  a  bill  for  the  whole  of  the  goods, 
as  one  half  belonged  to  a  lady  in  the  next  room.  With 
all  the  ceremony  natural  to  a  Frenchman,  he  sat  down 
to  write  his  account,  while  she  took  the  silk  into  the 
adjacent  room  to  show  it  to  her  niece,  to  whom  the  one 
half  belonged.  By  means  of  a  bottle  of  wine  which 
Madame  had  placed  before  the  French  weaver,  half  an 
h^iir  passed  over  without  much  uneasiness.  At  length 
his  patience  was  exhausted,  and,  having  called  up  the 
people  of  the  house,  he  inquired  for  the  lady  who  came 
in  with  him,  and  who  told  him  she  was  only  gone  into 
the  next  room.  To  the  utter  confusion  and  disappoint- 
ment of  poor  Monsieur,  he  was  informed  that  his  lady 
was  gone,  and  would,  they  believed,  return  no  more  to 
that  dwelling.  To  calm  his  rage,  and  to  convince  him 
that  they  were  not  confederates  in  her  villany,  they 
conveyed  him  to  the  next  room,  and  showed  him,  that 
the  proper  entry  to  her  apartment  was  by  a  back  stair ; 
adding,  that  she  had  only  taken  their  room  for  a  month, 
for  which  she  had  paid  them,  and  that  her  time  being 
expired,  they  knew  not  whither  she  had  gone. 

Determined  to  collect  her  contributions  from  house- 
holders instead  of  travellers,  she  next  took  lodgings 
from  a  tailor.  As  it  was  natural  for  a  generous,  good- 
hearted  lady  to  promote  the  prosperity  of  the  family 
where  she  resided,  Madame  employed  the  tailor  to 
make  the  goods  she  had  procured  from  the  mercer  and 
the  weaver.  Convinced  that  he  had  got  an  excellent 
job,  as  well  as  a  rich  lodger,  the  tailor,  with  mirth  and 
song,  sat  down  to  make  Madame's  dresses.  As  she 
acquainted  him  that  upon  a  specified  day  she  was  to 
have  a  large  party,  the  tailor  called  in  all  his  journey- 
men to  his  aid,  and  had  the  whole  finished  by  that 
time.     Meanwhile,  the  Princess  gave  her  landlady  a 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS.  71 

guinea  to  purchase  what  things  she  deemed  necessary, 
promising  to  pay  her  the  remainder  the  following  day. 
The  day  arrived,  the  guests  appeared,  an  elegant  en- 
tertainment was  served  up,  and  plenty  of  wine  drunk. 
None  were  without  their  due  portion.  The  tailor  had 
plied  his  glass  so  plentifully,  that  his  wife  had  to  lend 
him  her  assistance  to  his  bed-chamber.  This  answered 
the  design  of  our  Princess.  She  and  all  her  company 
departed  one  by  one,  carrying  away,  each  a  silver 
tankard,  or  a  saltcellar,  or  a  knife,  or  a  fork,  while  the 
maid  carried  off  all  the  clothes  that  were  not  upon 
their  backs.  The  moment  they  reached  the  street,  the 
maid  was  placed  in  a  coach  with  the  booty,  and  the 
rest  of  the  company  took  different  directions,  none  of 
them  being  discovered.  Thus  a  merry  night  brought 
a  sorrowful  morning  to  the  poor  industrious  tailor. 

Madame  being  attacked  with  a  fit  of  mourning,  sent 
her  confidential  maid  to  a  shop  in  the  New  Exchange, 
where  she  had  purchased  a  few  articles  the  previous 
day.  The  woman  of  the  shop,  with  all  possible  expe- 
dition, selected  the  best  specimens  of  her  goods,  and 
hastened  to  the  lodgings.  Madame  was  so  very  much 
indisposed  when  the  milliner  arrived,  that  she  could 
not  look  at  the  things,  and  desired  her  to  return  after 
dinner,  when  she  doubted  not  but  they  would  agree  as 
to  the  price.  The  obliging  milliner  was  satisfied,  and 
requested  liberty  to  leave  her  goods  until  she  returned, 
a  request  which  was  readily  granted.  At  the  hour 
appointed  she  returned,  and  inquired  if  the  lady  up 
stairs  were  at  home.  To  her  great  mortification  she 
was  informed  that  she  was  gone  they  could  not  tell 
where,  and  that  she  did  not  intend  to  return.  But 
before  her  departure  she  had  conveyed  away  the  valu- 
able part  of  her  effects.  Thus  both  her  landlady  and 
the  milliner  were  left  to  regret  her  absence,  and  to  re- 
flect upon  their  own  easy  credulity  and  loss. 

But  the  adventures  of  our  ingenious  Princess  increase 
in  magnitude  as  they  multiply  in  number.  Being  ar- 
rayed in  her  sable  robes,  and  having  taken  lodgings  in 
Holborn,  she  sent  for  a  barrister  of  Gray's  Inn,  and 


72  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

informed  hiixi,  that  by  the  death  of  her  father,  she  was 
sole  heir  to  his  fortune,  but  that  she  was  married  to  an 
extravagant  husband,  who  was  resolved  to  secure  her 
property  to  himself.  Here  she  poured  forth  a  torrent 
of  tears  and  the  most  grievous  lamentations,  the  more 
to  interest  the  young  barrister  in  her  favor.  But  while 
the  lawyer  was  squaring  his  features  to  the  occasion, 
and  talking  of  the  matter  in  a  learned  and  eloquent 
strain,  a  woman  ran  up  stairs,  exclaiming,  :;  O,  madam, 
we  are  all  undone!  for  my  master  is  below;  he  has 
been  asking  for  you,  and  swears  that  he  will  come  up 
to  your  chamber.  I  am  afraid  the  people  of  the  house 
will  not  be  able  to  hinder  him,  he  appears  so  resolute." 
— "O  heavens!"  exclaimed  Madame,  "what  shall  I 
do?"— "Why?"  cried  the  lawyer.  "Why!"  quoth 
she,  "I  mean  how  shall  I  dispose  of  you?  Dear  me, 
what  excuse  shall  I  make  for  your  being  here?  I  dare 
not  tell  him  your  quality  and  business,  for  that  would 
endanger  all ;  and,  on  the  other  side,  he  is  extremely 
jealous.  Therefore,  good  sir,  step  into  that  closet  until 
1  can  send  him  away."  Surprised,  and  at  a  loss  what 
to  do,  the  lawyer  complied.  The  closet  being  locked, 
and  the  curtains  of  the  bed  drawn,  she  opened  the  door 
to  her  husband,  who  was  loudly  demanding  admit- 
tance. 

The  moment  he  entered,  he  gave  his  spouse  the  mosi 
opprobrious  language.  "  O,  mistress  abandoned  !  I  un- 
derstand you  have  a  man  in  the  room :  a  pretty  com- 
panion for  a  poor  innocent  woman,  truly !  one  who  is 
always  complaining  how  hardly  I  use  her.  Where  is 
the  villain?  I  shall  sacrifice  him  this  moment.  Is  this 
your  modesty,  madam?  this  your  virtue  ?  Let  me  see 
your  gallant  immediately,  or,  by  the  light!  you  shall 
be  the  first  victim  yourself."  Saying  this,  he'  made  to 
the  closet  door,  and  burst  it  open  like  a  fury.  The 
young  lawyer  was  discovered  with  shame,  though  in- 
nocent, and  trembling  in  every  limb.  The  husband's 
sword  was  unsheathed,  and  death  was  before  the  bar- 
rister's eyes.  But  Madame,  interposing,  seemed  deter- 
mined rather  to  die  herself  than  to  suffer  the  blood  of 


"THE  GEKMAN  PRINCESS.  73 

an  innocent  man  to  stain  her  chamber.  A  companion 
of  the  husband  also  fortunately  came  to  her  assistance, 
and  seizing  the  arm  of  the  infuriated  man,  struggled  to 
wrest  the  sword  from  his  hand. 

The  discernment  of  the  lawyer  soon  discovered  the 
deception,  and,  to  exculpate  and  relieve  himself,  he 
candidly  related  the  whole  matter,  and  the  reason  for 
which  he  was  introduced  into  that  place.  But  all  was 
in  vain.  The  injured  and  enraged  husband  insisted 
that  this  was  only  a  feigned  narrative  to  cover  his  vil- 
lany,  and  nothing  but  his  blood,  or  an  adequate  remu- 
neration, would  assuage  his  fury.  The  cause  was  at 
last  referred  to  the  arbitration  of  the  kind  stranger  who 
had  interfered,  and  aided  Madame  in  protecting  the 
young  lawyer.  Five  hundred  pounds  were  proposed 
as  a  proper  recompense ;  but  that  was  far  beyond  the 
power  of  the  laAvyer  to  command.  It  was  with  no 
small  difficulty  agreed  that  he  should  give  a  hundred 
pounds,  rather  than  be  found  exposed  to  the  conse- 
quences of  detection,  in  a  situation  where  he  was  una- 
ble to  vindicate  his  innocence.  He  sent  a  note  to  a 
friend  for  that  sum,  the  confederates  being  careful  to 
examine  it  before  it  was  transmitted,  lest  it  should  be 
for  a  constable,  instead  of  a  hundred  pounds.  Upon 
the  payment  of  that  sum  the  lawyer  was  liberated,  and 
went  off  with  the  bitter  reflection,  that,  instead  of  re- 
ceiving a  good  fee  for  writing  a  deed  of  settlement,  he 
had  paid  a  hundred  pounds  for  a  few  minutes'  lodging 
in  a  closet;  but,  consoling  himself  with  the  hopes  of 
seeing  this  amiable  widow  speedily  exalted  to  merited 
honor. 

The  good  wishes  of  the  lawyer  were  in  a  very  few 
years  verified  in  her  history.  Not  long  after  this,  Ma- 
dame was  apprehended,  accused  of  stealing  a  silver 
tankard  at  Covent  Garden,  and  sent  to  Newgate.  At 
the  next  sessions  she  was  tried,  and  transported  to  Ja- 
maica ;  where,  however,  she  only  remained  two  years, 
Avhen  she  returned  to  England,  and  appeared  in  the 
character  of  a  great  heiress.  The  result  of  this  artifice 
was,  that  she  was  specdilv  married  to  a  rich  apotheca- 
G 


74  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

ry,  whom  she  soon  robbed  of  above  three  hundred 
pounds,  and  then  left  him  to  resolve  the  question  whe- 
the  loss  of  his  money  or  the  loss  of  his  wife  was  the 
greatest  misfortune.  Madame  went  next  to  lodge  in 
a  house  where  the  landlady,  a  watchmaker,  herself, 
and  her  faithful  maid,  composed  the  whole  family. 
Having  established  her  character  for  sobriety  and  pro- 
bity, she  invited  her  landlady  and  the  watchmaker  to 
the  play,  and  treated  them  with  tickets.  They  accepted 
the  invitation,  and  the  maid  remained  at  home,  sole 
guardian  of  the  garrison.  But  during  their  absence, 
she  broke  open  the  locks,  extracted  about  two  hundred 
pounds,  and  made  free  with  about  thirty  watches;  so 
that  her  spoil  amounted  in  all  to  six  hundred  pounds, 
which  she  carried  to  the  appointed  place  of  rendezvous. 
Meanwhile,  Madame,  not  satisfied  with  treating  the 
watchmaker  and  her  good  landlady  with  tickets  to  the 
play,  after  it  was  over  took  them  to  a  tavern  to  treat 
them  to  a  small  collation,  where  she  embraced  an  op- 
portunity to  decamp. 

It  happened  that  one  Mr.  Freeman,  a  brewer,  had 
been  robbed  of  two  hundred  pounds,  and  that  an  officer 
had  been  sent  to  search  every  suspected  place  for  the 
thieves.  One  Lancaster  was  the  person  upon  whom 
suspicion  chiefly  rested,  and,  while  searching  a  house 
for.  him,  they  discovered  Madame  walking  in  a  night- 
gown. The  thief-catcher  entered  her  room,  and,  seeing 
two  letters  upon  the  table,  he  began  to  examine  their 
contents.  Madame  was  highly  displeased  with  his 
impertinent  freedom,  and,  in  the  course  of  the  dispute 
which  ensued,  he  had  occasion  to  examine  the  features 
of  her  countenance,  and  recognising  her  ladyship,  took 
both  her  and  her  letters  along  with  him. 

When  removed  to  the  Old  Bailey,  she  was  interro- 
gated, whether  she  was  the  woman  who  usually  went 
by  the  name  of  Mary  Carleton.  She  answered,  "Yes." 
The  court  then  demanded  the  reason  of  her  return  from 
banishment  before  the  specified  time.  She  made  many 
trifling  excuses,  which  detained  the  court  for  a  few 
iays ;  but  finding  these  excuses  would  not  answer  her 


THE  GERMAN  PRINCESS.  75 

purpose,  she  pleaded  pregnancy.  A  committee  of  ma- 
trons was  then  appointed  to  examine  her,  who  gave  a 
verdict  against  her,  and  she  was  condemned  to  suffer 
in  conformity  with  her  previous  sentence. 

In  prison  she  was  visited  by  many,  out  of  curiosity 
to  see  the  behavior  of  such  a  remarkable  character  in 
confinement  and  under  sentence  of  death  ;  and  several 
clergymen  attended  her  to  conduct  her  devotions,  and 
to  direct  her  in  her  calamitous  situation.  She  confessed 
herself  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  sincerely  bewailed 
her  criminal  conduct,  frequently  wishing  that  she  could 
again  renew  her  life,  in  order  to  spend  it  in  a  more 
exemplary  and  virtuous  manner. 

On  the  day  of  her  execution,  she  appeared  more 
cheerful  and  gay  than  usual,  and,  placing  the  picture 
of  her  husband  upon  her  arm,  she  went  to  Tyburn 
with  it.  She  appeared  devout,  and,  when  she  heard 
St.  Sepulchre's  bell  begin  to  toll,  uttered  several  pious 
ejaculations.  To  a  friend,  who  rode  in  a  cart  with  her 
to  the  place  of  execution,  she  delivered  two  Roman 
Catholic  books ;  and,  addressing  the  multitude,  owned 
that  she  had  been  a  very  vain  woman,  and  hoped  that 
her  fate  would  deter  others  from  the  same  evil  ways; 
and  that,  though  the  world  had  condemned  her,  she 
had  much  to  say  for  herself.  Then,  praying  God  to 
forgive  her  as  she  did  her  most  inveterate  enemies,  she 
was  in  a  few  minutes  launched  into  eternity.  She  was 
executed  in  the  year  1672,  in  the  thirty-eighth  year  of 
her  age,  and  in  the  same  month  of  the  year  in  which 
she  was  born. 


76 


CAPTAIN   DUDLEY. 

attain  Dudley  was  born  at  Swepston  in  Leicw.w- 
liire.  His  father  once  possessed  a  considerable  estate, 
but  through  extravagance  lost  the  whole  except  about 
sixty  pounds  per  annum.  In  these  reduced  circum- 
stances he  went  to  London,  intending  to  live  in  ob- 
6T»irity,  corresponding  to  the  state  of  his  finances. 

Richard  his  son  had  a  promising  genius,  and  received 
a  liberal  education  at  St.  Paul's  school.  But  a  natu- 
rally vicious  disposition  baffled  all  restraints.  When 
only  nine  years  old  he  showed  his  covetous  disposition, 
by  robbing  his  sister  of  thirty  shillings,  and  absconding 
with  it.  In  a  few  days,  however,  he  was  found, 
brought  home,  and  sent  to  school,  where  his  vicious 
propensities  were  only  strengthened  by  indulgence. 
Impatient  of  the  confinement  of  a  school,  he  next  robbed 
his  father  of  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  and  ab- 
sconded. His  father,  however,  discovered  his  retreat, 
and  found  him  a  little  way  from  town  in  the  company 
of  two  loose  women. 

Despairing  of  his  settling  at  home,  his  father  sent 
him  on  board  a  man-of-war,  in  which  he  sailed  up  the 
straits,  and  behaved  gallantly  in  several  actions.  Upon 
his  arrival  in  England,  he  left  the  ship,  under  the  pre- 
tence that  a  younger  officer  had  been  preferred  before 
him,  upon  the  death  of  one  of  the  lieutenants.  In  a 
short  time  he  joined  a  band  of  thieves,  assisted  them  in 
robbing  the  country-house  of  admiral  Carter,  and 
escaped  detection.  Having  at  length  commenced  rob- 
ber, the  first  remarkable  robbery  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  was  that  of  breaking  into  the  house  of  a  lady 
of  Blackheath,  and  carrying  off  a  large  quantity  of 
plate. 


CAPTAIN    DUDLEY.  77 

He  and  his  associates  were  successful  in  selling  the 
plate  to  a  refiner ;  but  in  a  short  time  he  was  appre- 
hended for  the  robbery,  and  committed  to  Newgate. 
While  there,  he  sent  for  the  refiner,  and  severely  re- 
proached him  in  the  following  manner:  "  It  is,"  said 
ho,  "  a  hard  matter  to  find  an  honest  man  and  a  fair 
dealer :  for,  you  cursed  rogue,  among  the  plate  you 
bought  there  was  a  cup  with  a  cover,  which  you  told 
us  was  but  silver  gilt,  buying  it  at  the  same  price  with 
the  rest;  but  it  plainly  appeared,  by  the  advertisement 
in  the  gazette,  that  it  was  a  gold  cup  and  cover ;  I  see 
you  are  a  rogue,  and  that  there  is  no  trusting  any 
body."  Dudley  was  tried,  convicted  for  this  robbery, 
and  sentenced  to  death  :  but  his  youth,  and  the  interest 
of  his  friends,  procured  him  a  royal  pardon. 

For  two  years  he  conducted  himself  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  his  father,  so  that  he  purchased  for  him  a  com- 
mission in  the  army.  In  that  situation  he  also  acquit- 
ted himself  honorably,  and  married  a  young  lady  of  a 
respectable  family,  with  whom  he  received  an  estate 
of  a  hundred  and  forty  pounds  a  year.  This,  with  his 
commission,  enabled  them  to  live  in  a  genteel  manner. 
Delighting,  however,  in  company,  and  having  become 
security  for  one  of  his  companions  for  a  debt,  and  that 
person  being  arrested  for  it,  one  of  the  bailiffs  was 
killed  in  the  scuffle,  and  Dudley  was  suspected  of  being 
the  murderer. 

What  strengthened  this  suspicion  was,  that  Dudley 
was  the  avowed  enemy  of  all  that  class  of  society.  *  He 
deemed  a  bailiff  in  England,  or  what  is  known  in  Scot- 
land by  the  name  of  messenger,  as  one  who  is  deter- 
mined to  strip  every  person  who  comes  under  his  power 
of  all  he  possibly  can. 

But,  leaving  the  statements  of  Dudley  concerning 
these  men,  let  us  return  to  the  relation  of  his  actions 
Having  banished  every  virtuous  feeling,  being  more 
inclined  to  live  upon  the  ruins  of  his  country  than  the 
fruits  of  his  industry,  and  more  disposed  to  fight  than 
to  work,  he  abandoned  his  own  house,  and  joined  a 
band  of  robbers.     Dudley  soon  became  so   expert  a 


78  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

robber,  that  there  was  scarcely  any  robbery  committed 
but  he  acted  a  principal  part  in  it.  Pleased  with  this 
easy  way  of  obtaining  money,  and  of  supporting  an 
extravagant  expense,  he  also  prevailed  upon  Will,  his 
brother,  :o  join  him  in  this  employment.  It  happened, 
however,  that  Will  had  not  been  long  in  his  new  occu- 
pation, when  the  captain  was  apprehended  for  robbing 
a  gentleman  of  a  watch,  a  sword,  a  whip,  and  nine 
shillings.  But,  fortunately  for  him,  the  evidence  was 
defective,  and  he  escaped  death  a  second  time. 

Now  hardened  in  vice,  he  immediately  recurred  to 
his  old  trade.  He  robbed  on  the  highway,  broke  into 
houses,  picked  pockets,  or  performed  any  act  of  vio- 
lence or  cunning  by  which  he  could  procure  money. 
Fortune  favored  him  long,  and  he  went  on  with  impu- 
nity, but  was  at  last  apprehended  for  robbing  Sir  John 
Friend's  house.  Upon  trial  the  evidence  was  decisive, 
and  he  received  sentence  of  death.  His  friends  again 
interposed,  and  through  their  influence  his  sentence 
was  changed  for  that  of  banishment.  Accordingly,  he 
and  several  other  convicts  were  put  on  board  a  ship 
bound  for  Barbadoes.  But  they  had  scarcely  reached 
the  Isle  of  Wight,  when  he  excited  his  companions  to  a 
conspiracy,  and,  having  concerted  their  measures  while 
the  ship's  company  were  under  hatches,  they  went  off 
with  the  longboat. 

No  sooner  had  he  reached  the  shore  than  he  aban- 
doned his  companions,  and  travelled  through  woods 
and  by-paths.  Being  in  a  very  mean  dress,  he  begged 
when  he  had  no  opportunity  to  steal.  Arriving,  how- 
ever, at  Hounslow  heath,  he  met  with  a  farmer,  robbed 
him,  seized  his  horse,  and,  having  mounted,  set  forward 
in  quest  of  new  spoils.  This  was  a  fortunate  day,  for 
Dudley  had  not  proceeded  far  on  the  heath  when  a 
gentleman,  well  dressed,  and  better  mounted  than  the 
farmer,  made  his  appearance.  He  was  commanded  to 
halt  and  to  surrender.  Dudley  led  him  aside  into  a 
retired  thicket,  exchanged  clothes  and  horse,  rifled  his 
pockets,  and  then  addressed  him,  saying,  that  '*  he 
ought  never  to  accuse  him  of  robbing  him,  for  accord- 


CAPTAIN    DUDLEY.  79 

ln^  to  the  old  proverb,  exchange  was  no  robbery;"  so 
bid  tng  hirn  good  day,  he  marched  off  for  London.  Ar- 
rive ( there,  he  went  in  search  of  his  old  associates,  who 
wen  glad  to  see  their  friend ;  and  who,  in  consequence 
of  hi ■:  fortunate  adventures  and  high  reputation  among 
them  conferred  upon  him  the  title  of  captain,  all  agree- 
ing to  be  subject  to  his  commands.  Thus,  at  the  head 
of  sucu  an  experienced  and  desperate  band,  no  part  of 
the  country  was  secure  from  his  rapine,  nor  any  house 
sufficiently  strong  to  keep  him  out.  The  natural  con- 
sequences were,  that  he  soon  became  known  and  dread- 
ed all  over  the  country. 

To  avoid  capture,  and  to  prevent  all  inquiries,  he 
paid  a  visit  to  the  north  of  England,  and,  being  one 
day  in  search  of  plunder,  he  robbed  a  Dutch  colonel  of 
his  horse,  arms,  and  fine  laced  coat.  Thus  equipped, 
he  committed  several  other  robberies.  At  length,  how- 
ever, he  laid  aside  the  colonel's  habit,  only  using  his 
horse,  which  soon  became  dexterous  at  his  new  em- 
ployment. But  one  day  meeting  a  gentleman  near 
Epsom,  the  latter  resisted  the  captain's  demands,  and 
discharged  his  pistol  at  Dudley.  In  the  combat,  how- 
ever, he  was  victorious,  wounded  the  gentleman  in  the 
leg,  and,  having  stripped  him  of  his  money,  conveyed 
him  to  the  next  village,  that  he  might  receive  medical 
assistance,  and  then  rode  off  in  search  of  new  adven- 
tures. The  captain  and  his  men  were  very  successful 
in  this  quarter.  No  stage,  nor  coach,  nor  passenger, 
of  which  they  had  intelligence,  could  escape  their  de- 
predations, and  scarcely  a  day  passed  without  the  com- 
mission of  some  notorious  robbery. 

Captain  Dudley  and  his  men  went  on  in  a  continued 
course  of  good  fortune,  acquiring  much  wealth,  but 
amassing  little,  as  their  extravagance  was  equal  to 
their  gains.  On  one  ill-fated  day,  however,  having 
attacked  and  robbed  the  Southampton  coach,  they 
were  keenly  pursued,  and  several  of  them  taken,  but 
Dudley  escaped.  Deprived  of  the  chief  part  of  his 
own  forces,  he  now  attached  himself  to  some  house- 
breakers, and  with  them  continued  to  commit  many 

4 


SO  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBER*. 

robberies;  in  particular,  with  three  others,  he  entered 
the  house  of  an  old  woman  in  Spitalfields,  gagged  her, 
bound  her  to  a  chair,  and  rifled  the  house  of  a  consi- 
derable sum  of  money,  which  the  good  woman  had 
been  long  scraping  together.  Hearing  the  money  clink 
that  was  going  to  be  taken  from  her,  she  struggled  in 
her  chair,  fell  down  upon  her  face,  and  was  stifled  to 
death,  while  the  captain  and  his  companions  went  ofl 
with  impunity.  But  when  the  old  woman  came  to  be 
interred,  a  grandson  of  hers,  who  had  been  one  of  the 
robbers,  when  about  to  be  fitted  with  a  pair  of  mourn- 
ing gloves,  changed  countenance,  was  strongly  agi- 
tated, and  began  to  tremble.  He  was  suspected, 
charged  with  the  murder,  confessed  the  crime,  and 
informing  upon  the  rest,  two  of  them  were  taken,  tried, 
and  condemned,  and  the  three  hanged  in  chains. 

Yet,  though  Dudley's  name  was  published  as  acces- 
sory to  the  murder,  he  long  escaped  detection.  At 
length,  however,  he  was  apprehended,  and  charged 
with  several  robberies,  of  which  he,  by  dexterous  ma- 
nagement, evaded  the  deserved  punishment.  He  was 
also  called  to  stand  trial  for  the  murder  of  the  old  wo- 
man ;  but  the  principal  eviderfce,  upon  whose  testimony 
the  other  three  were  chiefly  condemned,  being  absent, 
he  escaped  suffering  for  that  crime.  The  dexterous 
manner  in  which  he  managed  that  trial,  the  witnesses 
whom  he  had  suborned,  and  the  manner  in  which  he 
maintained  his  innocence  before  the  jury,  were  often 
the  cause  of  his  boast  and  amusement. 

The  profligate  Dudley  was  no  sooner  relieved  from 
prison  than  he  hastened  to  join  his  old  companions  it! 
vice.  Exulting  to  see  their  captain  again  at  their 
head,  they  redoubled  their  activity,  and  committed  all 
mariner  of  depredations.  Among  other  adventures, 
they  robbed  a  nobleman  on  Hounslow  heath  of  fifteen 
hundred  pounds,  after  a  severe  engagement  with  his 
servants,  three  of  whom  were  wounded,  and  two  had 
their  horses  shot  under  them.  They  next  directed 
their  course  along  the  west  country  road,  and  having 
robbed  a  parson,  enjoined  him,  under  the  most  terrific 


CAPTAIN    DUDLEY.  '  81 

threats,  to  preach  a  sermon  in  praise  of  thieving.  He 
was  forced  to  comply,  and  the  sermon  being  ended, 
they  returned  his  money,  and  gave  him  four  shillings 
to  drink  their  health  and  success. 

After  this  adventure,  they  left  off  infesting  the  high- 
ways, and  rode  for  London.  Arrived  in  the  capital, 
the  captain's  brother  employed  his  dexterity  about 
town  in  several  adventures,  which  go  far  to  show  how 
well  the  brother  profited  by  the  example  and  instruc- 
tions of  the  captain.  He  first  dressed  himself  as  a 
countryman,  with  a  pair  of  dirty  boots  on,  and  a  whip 
in  his  hand,  and  went  to  Bartholomew  Fair,  where  he 
wandered  all  the  forenoon  without  meeting  any  prey. 
But  as  he  was  returning,  he  accosted  a  plain  country- 
man, saying,  "  Have  a  care,  honest  friend,  of  your 
money,  for  we  are  going  into  a  cursed  place,  full  of 
thieves,  rogues,  and  pickpockets.  I  am  almost  ruined 
by  them,  and  I  am  glad  that  they  have  not  pulled  the 
teeth  out  of  my  head.  Let  one  take  never  so  good  care, 
they  will  be  sure  of  his  money;  the  devil  certainly 
helps  them." 

The  face  of  the  countryman  glowed  with  courage  as 
he  replied,  "  I  defy  all  the  devils  to  rob  me  of  any  thing 
I  value.  I  have  a  round  piece  which  I'll  secure;" 
and  thrusting  it  into  his  mouthy  he  rushed  confidently 
into  the  fair.  Will  was  only  desirous  to  ascertain  the 
fact  that  he  had  money  about  him;  therefore,  giving 
his  instructions  with  a  few  sixpences  and  groats  to  a 
hopeful  boy,  he  immediately  ran  after  the  countryman, 
while  Will  followed  at  a  distance.  The  boy  coming 
up  with  the  countryman,  fell  down  before  him,  scatter- 
ing the  money  all  around;  and  starting  up,  he  raised 
the  most  hideous  noise,  crying  that  he  was  undone,  and 
that  he  must  run  away  from  his  apprenticeship,  that  his 
master  was  a  furious  man,  and  that  he  would  certainlv 
be  killed.  The  countryman  and  others  flocked  around, 
and  endeavored  to  assist  the  boy  in  gathering  up  his 
lost  money.  Then  one  of  them  said,  "  Have  you  found 
all]"  "Yes,"  all  the  silver,  but  that  is  of  no  avail; 
there  is  a  broad  piece  of  gold  which  I  was  carrying  to 


82  LIVES  Of  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBEKS. 

my  master  for  a  token  sent  from  the  country,  and  foi 
the  loss  of  it  I  shall  be  killed.  Alas !  I  am  undone ! 
what  will  become  of  me?"  Will  now  advanced  among 
the  crowd,  and  was  equally  concerned  for  the  unhappy 
boy ;  and,  seeing  the  countryman  standing  by,  he 
gravely  observed  that  he  had  seen  him  put  a  piece  of 
gold  into  his  mouth.  The  mob  instantly  seized  him, 
and  while  one  opened  his  mouth  by  force,  another  ex- 
tracted the  broad  piece  of  gold  ;  and  when  he  attempted 
to  speak  in  his  own  defence,  he  was  kicked,  pinched, 
and  so  tossed  about,  that  he  was  glad  to  escape  with 
his  life.  Meanwhile,  the  boy  slipped  away  among  the 
crowd,  and  at  an  appointed  place  met  Will  to  sur?ender 
to  him  his  booty. 

Having  changed  his  clothes,  Will  went  into  the  mar- 
ket, and  mingling  with  the  crowd,  learned  that  the 
countryman  was  gone  to  an  inn,  where  he  had  sent  for 
his  master,  a  knight  of  a  large  estate,  and  somo  other 
respectable  persons,  to  attest  his  character.  Wii.  knew 
this  person  well,  and  hastened  to  the  Exchange,  m  full 
hopes  of  meeting  him.  Having  reconnoitred  thf  gen- 
tleman, and  followed  him  until  he  perceived  an  oppor- 
tunity, he  robbed  him  of  every  guinea  he  had,  except 
one,  which  he  considerately  left  him  to  pay  for  his 
dinner.  The  knight,  repairing  to  the  inn,  laughed 
heartily  when  the  poor  countryman  informed  him  that 
he  had  been  robbed,  while  he  told  him  that  he  also  had, 
in  like  manner,  been  just  fleeced  upon  the  Exchange. 
The  countryman  laughed  in  his  turn,  and  said,  "  Sir, 
let  us  make  our  escape  from  this  roguish  place;"  add- 
ing, with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "Sir,  they'll  ste» 
our  small  guts  to  make  fiddle-strings  of  them." 

The  gentleman,  having  recruited  his  purse,  went  ou 
the  next  day  to  the  Exchange.  Will  paid  him  the 
same  compliment  the  second  day.  The  knight  was 
surprised  how  it  was  possible  for  any  man  to  rob  him 
when  he  was  so  forewarned,  and  so  upon  his  guard; 
but,  looking  hastily  about,  his  eye  fixed  upon  Will, 
whom  he  suspected  to  be  the  delinquent.  He  went  up 
to  him,  and,  taking  him  by  the  button,  informed  him. 


CAPTAIN    DUDLEY.  83 

that  be  strongly  suspected  that  he  was  the  person  who 
had  robbed  him ;  but,  as  he  was  a  gentleman  of  a  large 
fortune,  he  did  not  regard  the  money,  and  would  freely 
pardon  him,  and  give  him  all  the  money,  upon  condi- 
tion that  he  would  inform  him  by  what  means  he  had 
done  so.  "This,"  said  he,  "1  promise  upon  my  ho- 
nor." "  Your  word  of  honor,"  said  Will,  "  is  suffi- 
cient ;  I  know  the  greatness  of  your  fortune ;  I  am  the 
man.  I  will  wait  on  your  worship  at  the  tavern,  and 
there  show  you  some  of  my  art  more  freely  than  I 
would  do  to  my  fellow-rogues."  In  their  way  to  the 
inn,  the  gentleman  informed  Will,  that  as  he  wished  to 
make  a  frolic  of  the  matter,  he  would  send  for  some 
other  gentlemen  to  be  present,  assuring  him,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  should  sustain  no  damage  from  any 
discovery  that  he  might  make  to  them.  "  I  know 
you're  a  gentleman,"  said  Will,  "and  men  of  honor 
scorn  to  keep  base  company.  Call  as  many  as  you 
please ;  I  '11  take  their  word,  and  I  know  that  I  am 
safe." 

When  the  gentlemen  arrived,  Will  told  them  many 
things  which  greatly  astonished  and  pleased  them; 
and  when  he  pulled  out  the  piece  of  gold,  and  informed 
them  how  he  had  used  Roger,  the  gentleman's  tenant, 
he  was  immediately  sent  for  to  increase  the  amuse- 
ment. "What  would  you  say,"  cried  the  knight,  as 
he  entered,  "if  you  saw  your  gold  again?"  "Oh!" 
said  he,  "I  wish  I  could;  but  if  my  mouth  can't  keep 
it,  where  shall  I  put  it  7  Shud  !  I  'd  rather  see  the 
rogue ;  I  'd  make  a  jelly  of  his  bones  !"  "  There  he  is," 
said  the  knight,  "and  there  's  your  broad  piece."  At> 
Roger  began  to  heave  and  to  bull^r,  his  master  com- 
manded him  to  take  his  piece  of  gold,  and  sit  down  by 
him :  upon  which,  the  pacified  Roger,  seeing  how 
things  went,  drank  to  his  new  acquaintance. 

One  of  the  gentlemen  pulling  out  a  curious  watch, 
said,  he  wondered  how  it  was  possible  to  take  a  watch 
out  of  a  fob ;  that  it  certainly  must  be  from  carelessness 
on  the  part  of  the  owner.  "No,"  said  Will,  "if  the 
gentleman  will  take  a  turn  in  Moorfields,  I  '11  wager  a 


84  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBlJERS. 

guinea  I  '11  have  the  watch  before  he  return,  let  him 
take  what  care  he  pleases,  and  I  shan't  stir  out  of  the 
room."  "Done,"  cried  the  gentleman;  and  every 
gentleman  in  the  room  laid  down  his  guinea,  while 
Roger  staked  his  broad  piece.  The  gentleman  went 
out,  and  was  careful  that  he  would  not  suffer  man, 
woman,  nor  child  to  come  near  him.  When  the  time 
approached  that  he  should  return,  a  boy  came  pretty 
near  him,  but,  to  avoid  suspicion,  ran  past  him,  and  at 
the  same  time  looking  on  his  back,  informed  the  gen- 
tleman that  it  swarmed  with  vermin.  The  gentleman 
observing  them,  and  loathing  the  sight,  said,  "Good 
boy,  take  them  off,  and  I  '11  give  you  a  shilling."  The 
boy  did  so,  at  the  same  time  stealing  his  watch ;  and, 
having  received  his  shilling,  ran  off.  The  gentleman 
returned  to  the  tavern,  wondering  all  the  way  how  he 
could  possibly  come  by  such  vermin,  and  taking  the 
greatest  care  that  no  person  should  approach  him. 

Upon  his  return  to  the  tavern,  Will  asked  him  what 
o'clock  it  was.  He  attempted  to  pull  out  his  watch, 
but,  to  his  utter  astonishment  and  confusion,  it  was 
gone.  Upon  this,  Will  produced  it,  and  asked  the 
gentleman  if  that  were  his.  The  gentleman  was 
struck  dumb,  casting  up  his  hands  and  eyes,  and,  full 
of  amazement,  addressed  Will,  saying,  "  You  must 
have  had  the  assistance  of  the  devil."  "  Of  a  boy," 
said  Will.  "Did  not  a  boy  pick  you  clean?"  "There's 
the  devil,"  said  the  gentleman ;  "  and  he  threw  them 
on,  too,  I  suppose."  "Ay,  through  a  quill,"  said  the 
other. 

All  present  were  astonished  at  the  ingenuity  of  the 
trick,  but  particularly  plain  Roger,  who  could  not,  at 
times,  restrain  his  laughter.  "  Alas  !"  said  Will,  "  this 
trick  is  not  worth  talking  about :  it  is  only  one  of  those 
we  commit  to  our  boys.  There  is  a  nobleman  just 
passing  the  window,  with  a  very  rich  coat  upon  his 
back ;  I  '11  wager,  as  before,  to  steal  it  from  him,  before 
all  his  followers,  and  bring  it  here  on  my  own  back." 
The  gentlemen  all  staked  their  guineas,  and  were  se- 
conded by  Roger.     "  Come,   now,"  said   Will,    "this 


C ATTAIN    DUDLEY.  85 

matter  must  not  be  entrusted  to  a  boy;  yon  will  givo 
me  leave  to  go  myself,  nor  must  you  restrict  me  to  any 
particular  time  to  return."  So  out  he  ran,  and  followed 
the  nobleman  from  street  to  street,  until  he  saw  him 
enter  a  tavern. 

The  nobleman  was  conducted  up-stairs.  Will  bust- 
ling in  after  him,  hastened  to  the  bar-keeper,  and 
desired  him  to  lend  him  an  apron,  as  his  master  would 
be  served  only  by  his  own  footman.  "  He  is  a  very 
good  customer,  and  expects  the  very  best  wine :  I  must 
go  to  the  cellar  and  taste  it  for  him."  The  apron 
being  given,  he  went  to  the  cellar,  and  returned  with 
some  of  the  best  of  each  wine  for  his  pretended  master. 
He  ran  so  quick  up  and  down  stairs,  and  was  so  alert 
at  his  work,  that  none  of  the  other  servants  could  equal 
him.  Meanwhile,  the  company  up-stairs  taking  him 
for  the  servant  of  the  house,  were  highly  satisfied  with 
his  attendance.  Will  was  also  careful  to  give  full 
cups  to  the  servant  who  should  have  served  in  his 
place,  with  some  money,  which  the  other  was  very 
glad  to  receive  for  doing  nothing.  He  seldom  also 
went  into  the  room  without  passing  some  merry  jest  to 
amuse  the  company.  They  were  so  highly  pleased 
with  him,  that  they  said  one  to  another,  "This  is  a 
merry,  witty  fellow ;  such  a  man  as  he  is  fit  to  make  a 
house;  he  deserves  double  wages."  When  Will  saw 
his  plan  ripe  for  execution,  he  came  into  the  room  with 
some  wine,  and  by  the  aid  of  his  knife,  made  a  slit  in 
my  lord's  coat.  Returning  with  a  bottle  in  one  hand, 
and  his  other  hand  full  of  glasses,  before  he  approached 
his  lordship  he  started  and  stared,  saying,  "  What  fel- 
lows are  those  who  have  made  that  coat?"  with  other 
imprecations  against  the  tailor.  Then  some  of  the 
company  rising  up,  saw  the  rent  in  my  lord's  coat,  and 
cried,  "  My  lord,  the  tailor  has  cheated  you."  Will, 
drawing  near,  said,  "Such  things  may  happen;  but 
give  me  the  coat,  and  I  '11  carry  it  privately  under  my 
master's  cloak  to  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  who  will 
presently  make  it  as  good  as  if  it  had  not  been  torn." 
Borrowing  a  great  coat  of  a  eentleman  present,  the 

H 


LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBEKS. 

nobleman  gave  Will  his  coat  to  carry  to  the  tailor, 
who,  coming  down  stairs,  informed  the  landlord  of  the 
disaster,  received  his  cloak,  and,  patting  the  rent  coat 
below  it,  seized -a  good  beaver  hat  off  one  of  the  cloak- 
pins,  and  hastened  from  the  tavern.  Arriving  at  the 
inn  where  the  gentlemen  were  anxiously  waiting  his 
return,  he  went  into  another  room,  dressed  himself, 
and  entered  with  the  cloak  and  beaver  on.  "  What !" 
said  one  of  them,  "  instead  of  a  coat,  you  come  with  a 
cloak,  and  great  need  for  it;  for,"  he  added,  "there's 
a  deal  of  knavery  under  it."  Will  then  opened  the 
cloak,  and  showed  them  the  coat,  saying,  that  he  had 
received  the  cloak  and  beaver  into  the  bargain  j  and 
gave  an  account  of  the  whole  adventure. 

Meanwhile,  my  lord  and  his  company  had  waited 
long  in  expectation  of  the  servant,  whom  they  supposed 
to  have  been  one  of  the  waiters  of  the  house.  The 
landlord  also  wondering  that  they  were  so  long  in  call- 
ing for  more  wine,  one  of  the  servants  was  sent  up-stairs 
to  force  trade.  He  entered  the  room,  saying,  "Call 
here,  call  here,  gentlemen  ?"  "  Yes,"  said  one  of 
them,  "  where  is  your  fellow- servant  who  waited  upon 
us?"  "My  fellow-servant!"  exclaimed  the  other; 
"  he  said  he  was  my  lord's  servant,  and  that  his  mas- 
ter would  be  served  by  none  but  himself,  and  I  should 
have  good  vails,  nevertheless."  My  lord  replied,  "  How 
can  that  be?  I  have  only  one  gentleman  of  my  own 
retinue  ;  the  rest  are  with  my  lady.  He  that  served 
us  came  in  with  an  apron,  and  in  the  character  of  one 
of  the  servants  of  the  house: — call  up  the  landlord!" 
Boniface  instantly  waited  upon  them,  when  one  of  the 
gentlemen  asked  him,  if  he  kept  sharpers  in  his  house, 
to  affront  gentlemen  and  to  rob  them.  "Nay,"  replied 
the  vintner,  who  was  a  choleric  man,  "  do  you  bring 
sharpers  along  with  you,  to  affront  me  and  rob  my 
house?  I  am  sure  I  have  lost  a  new  cloak  and  bea- 
ver; and,  for  aught  I  know,  though  you  look  like  gen- 
tlemen, you  may  be  sharpers  yourselves;  and  I  expect 
to  be  paid  by  you  for  my  losses,  as  well  as  for  the 
reckoning."     One  of  them  instantly  drew  upon  him. 


CAPTAIN    DUDLEY.  87 

enraged  at  his  insolent  language;  bnt  the  landlord  ran 
down  stairs  in  affright,  and  alarmed  the  whole  house, 
entreating  them  not  to  suffer  such  rogues  to  escape. 
In  the  mean  time  he  seized  a  sword,  the  servants  armed 
themselves  with  spits,  pokers,  and  such  other  weapons 
as  the  house  afforded.  A  great  uproar  was  soon  rais- 
ed;  and  the  nobleman  coming  first  out  to  penetrate 
through  the  crowd,  made  a  thrust  at  the  landlord,  but 
was  beaten  back  by  a  fire-shovel  in  the  hand  of  one  of 
the  waiters,  and  narrowly  escaped  being  run  through 
with  a  long  spit  in  the  hands  of  a  cook  maid.  His 
lordship,  seeing  the  door  so  completely  guarded,  shut 
himself  up  in  the  room,  and  began  to  consult  with  the 
rest  of  the  company  what  was  best  to  be  done. 

Fortunately,  however,  the  gentleman  who  was  in  the 
other  tavern  with  Will,  conjecturing  that  a  quarrel 
might  ensue  between  the  nobleman  and  the  vintner, 
who  had  lost  his  cloak  and  beaver,  sent  his  own  land- 
lord to  inform  him,  that  the  rogue  was  caught,  and  in 
safe  custody. 

He  was  admitted  up-stairs,  waited  on  his  lordship, 
and  communicated  to  him  the  whole  affair.  A  cessa- 
tion of  arms  took  place.  They  drank  to  the  health  of 
the  landlord,  assuring  him,  that  in  future  they  would 
be  friendly  to  his  house;  but;  in  the  mean  time,  they 
attended  their  peacemaker  to  the  tavern,  where  Will 
was  exhibiting  his  dexterity.  The  vintner  went  along 
with  them,  and,  after  common  compliments,  Will  re- 
stored the  coat,  the  cloak,  and  the  beaver,  and  continued 
to  amuse  them  during  the  remainder  of  the  evening 
with  the  relation  of  his  adventures. 

But  to  return,  at  length,  to  the  captain  his  brother. 
He  had.  along  with  his  companions,  committed  so  many 
robberies  upon  the  highway,  that  a  proclamation  was 
issued  against  them,  offering  a  reward  to  those  who 
should  bring  them,  either  dead  or  alive.  This  occa- 
sioned their  detection  in  the  following  manner : — having 
committed  a  robbery,  and  being  closely  pursued  to 
Westminster  ferry,  the  wherryman  refused  to  carry 
any  more  that  night.     Two  of  them  then  rode  off,  and 


SS  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

the  other  four  gave  their  horses  to  a  waterman  to  lead 
to  the  next  inn.  The  horses  foaming  with  sweat,  the 
waterman  began  to  suspect  that  they  were  robbers  who 
had  been  keenly  pursued,  and  communicated  his  sus- 
picions to  the  constable,  who  secured  the  horses,  and 
went  in  search  of  the  men. 

He  was  not  long  in  seizing  one  of  them,  who  con- 
fessed ;  and  the  constable,  hastening  to  the  inn,  se- 
cured the  rest,  and,  having  placed  a  strong  guard 
upon  them,  rode  to  Lambeth,  and  making  sure  of  the 
other  two,  led  them  before  a  justice  of  the  peace,  who 
committed  them  to  Newgate. 

At  the  next  sessions,  captain  Dudley,  his  brother,  and 
three  other  accomplices,  were  tried,  and  condemned  to 
suffer  death. 

After  sentence,  captain  Dudley  was  brought  to  JVew- 
gate,  where  he  conducted  himself  agreeably  to  his  sad 
situation.  He  was  conveyed  from  Newgate  with  six 
other  prisoners.  He  appeared  pretty  cheerful,  but  his 
brother  lay  all  the  time  sick  in  the  cart.  The  ceremo- 
nies of  religion  being  performed,  they  were  launched 
into  another  world  on  the  twenty-second  of  February, 
1681  j  to  answer  for  the  numerous  crimes  of  their  guilty 
lives. 

The  bodies  of  the  captain  and  his  brother,  having 
been  cut  down,  were  put  into  separate  coffins,  to  be 
conveyed  to  their  disconsolate  father,  who  at  the  sight 
was  so  overwhelmed,  that  he  sank  upon  the  dead  bo- 
dies, and  never  spoke  more,  and  was  buried  at  the  same 
time  and  in  the  same  grave  with  his  two  sons. 


89 


WILLIAM  NEVISON. 

The  advancement  of  the  arts  and  sciences  is  noi 
more  rapid  than  the  progress  of  folly  and  vice.  In  the 
following  memoir  it  will  be  demonstrated,  that  the  best 
education  may  be  perverted  by  vicious  dispositions 

William  Nevison  was  born  at  Pomfret,  in  Yorkshm 
about  the  year  1639,  and  his  parents,  being  in  goo 
circumstances,  conferred  upon  him  a  decent  education 
He  remained  at  school  until  he  was  about  thirteen 
years  of  age.  During  that  period,  his  expanding  talents 
promised  a  luxuriant  harvest;  but  the  general  bent  oi 
his  future  character,  and  the  ruling  motive  of  all  his 
actions,  were  exhibited  at  that  period.  He  conimn 
his  depredations  by  stealing  a  silver  spoon  from  his 
own  father.  The  too  indulgent  parent,  instead  of  chas- 
tising him  for  the  crime,  transferred  the  unpleasant 
work  to  the  schoolmaster.  The  father  who  resigns 
authority  over  his  own  children  may  expect  either  to 
lose  them  altogether,  or  to  have  his  heart  grieved  and 
his  family  dishonored  by  their  conduct.  The  school- 
master having  punished  young  Nevison  for  the  theft, 
he  spent  a  sleepless  night  in  meditating  revenge.  He 
knew  that  the  pedagogue  had  a  favorite  horse,  which 
grazed  in  an  adjacent  paddock.  William  rose  early  in 
the  morning,  moved  quietly  into  his  father's  closet, 
stole  his  keys,  and  supplied  himself  with  cash  to  the 
amount  of  ten  pounds ;  then,  taking  a  saddle  and  bri- 
dle from  his  father's  stable,  he  hastened  to  the  paddock 
in  which  the  schoolmaster's  horse  was  accustomed  to 
feed :  and,  having  saddled  and  bridled  the  animal,  with 
all  haste  rode  towards  London.  About  a  mile  or  two 
from  the  capital,  he  cut  the  throat  of  the  poor  horse,  for 
fear  of  detection.  Arrived  in  London,  he  changed  his 
name  and  clothes,  and  then  hired  himself  to  a  brewer. 


90  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

Although  circumstances  compelled  him  to  be  for  a^ 
while  industrious,  in  order  to  obtain  the  necessaries  of 
life,  his  mind  was  always  upon  the  stretch  to  invent 
some  more  expeditious  mode  of  acquiring  money  than 
the  slow  return  of  annual  pay;  accordingly  he  often, 
ineffectually,  attempted  to  rob  his  master.  One  even- 
ing, however,  the  clerk  happening  to  use  his  bottle  too 
freely,  Nevison  followed  him  into  the  counting-house 
and,  while  he  was  enjoying  a  recruiting  nap,  stole  the 
keys  of  the  desks,  and  relieved  them  of  their  burden, 
to  the  amount  of  about  two  hundred  pounds.  Without 
waiting  to  discover  whether  the  clerk  or  the  servant 
would  be  blamed  for  the  cash,  he  sailed  for  Holland. 

But  change  of  climate  had  no  effect  in  'hanging  his 
nature.  Through  his  instigation,  the  daughter  of  a 
respectable  citizen  robbed  her  father  of  a  large  sum  of 
money,  and  a  quantity  of  jewels,  and  eloped  with  the 
Englishman.  They  were  pursued,  taken,  and  com- 
mitted to  prison.  Thus  detected,  Nevison  would  cer- 
tainly have  finished  a  short  but  villanous  career  in  a 
foreign  land,  had  he  not  fortunately  effected  his  escape. 

With  no  small  difficulty  he  arrived  in  Flanders,  and 
enlisted  into  a  regiment  of  English  volunteers,  under 
the  command  of  the  duke  of  York.  In  that  station  he 
behaved  with  considerable  reputation,  and  even  ac- 
quired some  money:  but  his  restless  temper  and  dispo- 
sition to  acquire  riches,  by  whatever  means,  did  not 
permit  him  to  remain  in  a  situation  of  industry  or  so- 
briety. He  deserted,  went  over  to  England,  with  his 
money  purchased  a  horse,  together  with  all  other  ne- 
cessaries, and  commenced  his  depredations  in  a  syste- 
matic form.  His  success  was  uncommon,  and  he  every 
day  found  means  to  replenish  his  coffers,  and  to  nourish 
his  extravagance.  Nor  would  he  unite  his  fortune 
with  any  one,  who,  from  selfish  motives,  might  feel 
disposed  to  participate  in  his  lucrative  employment. 

One  day  Nevison,  who  went  otherwise  by  the  name 
of  Johnson,  travelling  on  the  road,  and  scouring  about 
in  search  of  a  prize,  met  two  countrymen,  who,  coming 
.ip  towards  him,  informed  him  that  it  was  very  danger- 


WILLIAM    NEVISON.  91 

ons  travelling  forward,  for  that  the  way  was  set,  and 
they  had  been  robbed  by  three  highwaymen,  about 
half  a  mile  off;  and  if  he  had  any  charge  of  money 
about  him.  it  was  his  safest  course  to  turn  back.  Ne- 
vison  asking  them  what  they  had  lost,  they  told  him 
forty  pounds:  upon  which  he  replied,  "Turn  back 
with  me  and  show  me  the  way  they  took,  and  my  life 
to  a  farthing,  I  '11  make  them  return  you  your  money 
again."  They  rode  along  with  him  till  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  highwaymen,  when  Nevison,  ordering  the 
countrymen  to  stay  behind  him  at  some  distance,  rode 
up,  and  spoke  to  the  foremost  of  them,  saying,  "Sir, 
by  your  garb  and  the  color  of  your  horse,  you  should 
be  one  of  those  I  looked  after ;  and  if  so,  my  business 
is  to  tell  you,  that  you  borrowed  of  two  friends  of  mine 
forty  pounds,  which  they  desire  me  to  demand  of  you, 
and  which,  before  we  part,  you  must  restore."  "  How  !" 
cried  the  highwayman,  "  forty  pounds  !  What!  is  the 
fellow  mad  7"  "So  mad,"  replied  Nevison,  "that 
yonr  life  shall  answer  me,  if  you  do  not  give  me  better 
satisfaction."  Upon  which  he  drew  his  pistol  and 
suddenly  clapped  it  to  the  other's  breast,  who  finding 
that  Nevison  had  also  his  rein,  and  that  he  could  not 
get  his  sword  or  pistols,  yielded,  telling  him  his  life  was 
at  his  mercy.  "No,"  said  Nevison,  "it  is  not  that  I 
seek,  but  the  money  you  robbed  these  two  men  of  who 
are  riding  up  to  me,  which  you  must  refund." 

The  thief  was  forced  to  consent,  and  readily  to  deli- 
ver such  part  as  he  had,  saying  his  companions  were 
in  possession  of  the  rest;  so  that  Nevison,  having  made 
him  dismount,  and  taking  away  his  pistols,  which  he 
gave  to  the  countrymen,  ordered  them  to  secure  him, 
and  hold  his  own,  while  he  took  the  thief's  horse,  and 
pursued  the  other  two,  whom  he  soon  overtook ;  for 
they,  thinking  him  their  companion,  stopped  as  soon 
as  they  saw  him;  so  that  he  came  up  to  them  in  the 
midst  of  a  common.  "  How  now,  Jack,"  said  one  of 
them,  "what  made  you  engage  with  yon  fellow?" 
"No,  gentlemen,"  replied  Nevison,  "you  are  mistaken 
in  your  man  :  Thomas — for  by  the  token  of  your  noise 


92  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

and  arms,  I  perceive  you  are  Thomas — he  hath  sent  me 
to  you  for  the  ransom  of  his  life,  amounting  to  no  less 
than  the  prize  of  the  day,  which  if  you  presently  sur- 
render, you  may  go  about  your  business;  if  not,  I  must 
have  a  little  dispute  with  you  at  sword  and  pistol !" 
At  which  one  of  them  fned  at  him,  but  missing  his  aim, 
received  Nevison's  bullet  in  his  right  shoulder;  and 
being  thereby  disabled,  Nevison  was  about  to  discharge 
at  the  other,  when  he  called  for  quarter,  and  came  to  a 
parley,  which,  in  short,  was  made  up,  with  Nevison  s 
promise  to  send  their  friend,  and  their  delivering  him 
ail  the  ready  money  they  had,  amounting  to  a  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds.  Having  obtained  his  booty,  he  rode 
back  to  the  two  countrymen,  and  released  their  prison- 
er, giving  them  their  whole  forty  pounds,  with  a  cau- 
tion for  the  future  to  look  better  after  it,  and  not,  like 
cowards,  as  they  were,  to  surrender  the  same  on  such 
easy  terms  again. 

In  all  his  exploits,  Nevison  was  tender  of  the  fair 
sex,  and  bountiful  to  the  poor.  He  was  also  a  true 
loyalist,  and  never  levied  any  contributions  upon  the 
royalists.  One  day,  fortunately  encountering  a  rich 
usurer,  he  stopped  his  coach,  and  demanded  that  he 
would  deliver  the  money  which  he  had  extorted  from 
poor  widows  and  orphans.  The  pistol  presented  to  his 
breast,  and  the  reproaches  of  the  highwayman,  filled 
his  guilty  mind  with  inexpressible  terror,  and  he  began 
to  expostulate  for  his  life.  "  That  shall  be  granted," 
replied  Nevison,  "  upon  condition  of  your  surrendering 
your  gold."  The  other  reluctantly  drew  out  sixty 
broad  pieces  of  gold ;  but  this  sum  being  inadequate  to 
the  necessities  of  Nevison,  he  constrained  the  usurer  to 
mount  upon  the  postilion's  horse,  and  allowed  the 
coach  with  the  three  ladies  in  it  to  proceed.  The  poor 
Jew,  now  thinking  that  the  hour  was  verily  nigh  at 
hand  when  he  would  be  bereft  of  life  and  separated 
from  his  treasures,  experienced  all  the  violent  emotions 
of  terror,  chagrin  and  despair.  Nevison  compelled  him 
to  draw  a  note  upon  sight  for  five  hundred  pounds 
upon  a  scrivener  in  London.     He  then  permitted  him 


WILLIAM  NEVISON.  93 

to  ride  after  his  friends  to  acquaint  them  with  his  mis- 
fot  tunes,  while  he  himself  rode  all  night,  that  he  might 
have  the  money  drawn  before  advice  could  be  for- 
warded to  stop  the  payment. 

After  several  adventures  of  a  similar  nature,  Nevison 
one  day  robbed  a  rich  grazier  of  450/.  and  then  pro- 
posed to  himself  to  retire  with  the  spoil.  Accordingly, 
he  returned  home,  and,  like  the  prodigal  son,  was  joy- 
fully received  by  his  father,  who,  not  having  heard  of 
him  during  seven  or  eight  years,  supposed  that  he  had 
been  dead.  He  remained  with  his  father  until  the  day 
of  the  old  man's  death,  living  as  soberly  and  honestly 
as  if  no  act  of  violence  had  ever  sullied  his  reputation. 
Upon  the  death  of  his  father,  however,  he  returned  to 
his  former  courses,  and  in  a  short  time,  his  name  was 
a  terror  to  every  traveller  upon  the  road.  To  such  an 
extent  did  he  carry  his  plans,  that  the  carriers  and 
drovers  who  frequented  that  road  willingly  agreed  to 
leave  certain  sums  at  such  places  as  he  appointed,  to 
prevent  their  being  stripped  of  their  all. 

Continuing  his  wicked  course,  he  was  at  last  appre- 
hended, thrown  into  Leicester  gaol,  put  in  irons,  and 
strictly  guarded  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  the  precautions 
of  the  county,  he  effected  his  escape.  One  day,  two 
or  three  of  his  trusty  friends  visited  him,  one  of  whom, 
being  a  physician,  gave  out  that  he  was  infected  with 
the  plague,  and  that,  unless  he  was  removed  to  a 
larger  room,  where  he  might  enjoy  free  air,  he  should 
not  only  himself  perish,  but  communicate  the  infection 
to  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  gaol.  He  was  instantly 
removed,  and  the'  gaoler's  wife  would  not  allow  her 
husband  to  go  farther  then  the  door  of  his  room,  for 
fear  of  the  infection,  which  afforded  Nevison  and  his 
friends  time  to  perfect  their  scheme.  The  physician 
came  twice  or  thrice  every  day  to  see  him,  and  continued 
to  declare  his  case  hopeless.  At  last  a  painter  was 
brought  in,  who  painted  all  his  body  with  spots,  similar 
to  those  that  appear  upon  a  person  infected  with  the 
pestilence.  In  a  few  days  after,  he  received  a  sleeping 
draught,  and  was  declared  to  be  dead.     The  inquest 


94  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

who  sat  upon  his  body  were  afraid  to  approach  in 
order  to  make  a  minute  inspection,  and  thus  a  verdict 
was  returned  that  he  had  died  of  the  plague.  His 
triends  now  demanded  his  body,  and  he  was  carried 
out  of  prison  in  a  coffin. 

This  insertion  into  a  coffin  only  rendered  him  more 
callous  and  daring  in  vice.  He,  with  redoubled  vigor, 
renewed  his  depredations,  and,  meeting  his  carriers 
and  drovers,  informed  them,  that  it  was  necessary  to 
increase  their  rents,  in  order  to  refund  his  expenses 
while  in  gaol  and  his  loss  of  time.  It  was  at  first 
supposed,  that  it  was  his  ghost,  who  carried  on  the 
same  pranks  that  he  had  done  in  his  lifetime.  The 
truth  of  this,  however,  came  to  be  suspected,  and  the 
gaoler  offered  a  reward  of  201.  to  any  person  who 
would  restore  him  to  his  former  domicile. 

Resolved  to  visit  the  capital,  he  upon  his  journey 
met  a  company  of  canting  beggars,  pilgrims,  and  idle 
vagabonds.  Continuing  in  their  company  for  some 
time,  and  observing  the  merry  life  that  they  pur- 
sued, he  took  an  opportunity  to  propose  himself  as  a 
candidate  for  admission  into  their  honorable  frater- 
nity. Their  leader  applauded  his  resolution,  and 
addressed  him  in  these  words: — "Do  not  we  come 
into  the  world  arrant  beggars,  without  a  rag  upon 
us?  And  do  we  not  all  go  out  of  the  world  like 
beggars,  saving  only  an  old  sheet  over  us?  Shall  we, 
then,  be  ashamed  to  walk  up  and  down  the  world 
like  beggars,  with  old  blankets  pinned  about  us?*  No! 
no !  that  would  be  a  shame  to  us,  indeed.  Have  we 
not  the  whole  kingdom  to  walk  in  at  our  pleasure  1 
Are  we  afraid  of  the  approach  of  quarter-day  ?  Do  we 
walk  in  fear  of  sheriffs,  bailiffs,  and  catchpoles?  Who 
ever  knew  an  arrant  beggar  arrested  for  debt?  Is  not 
our  meat  dressed  in  every  man's  kitchen  ?  Does  not 
every  man's  cellar  afford  us  beer?  And  the  best  men's 
purses  keep  a  penny  for  us  to  spend?"  Having,  by 
these  words,  as  he  thought,  fully  fixed  him  in  love 
with  begging,  he  then  acquainted  the  company  with 
NWison's  desire,  in  consequence  of  which  they  were  all 


WILLIAM  NEVISON.  95 

very  joyful,  being  as  glad  to  add  one  to  their  society,  as 
a  Mussulman  to  obtain  a  proselyte.  The  first  question 
they  asked  him  was,  if  he  had  any  loure  in  his  bung. 
Nevison  stared  on  them,  not  knowing  what  they 
meant ;  till  at  last,  one  informed  him  it  was  money  in 
his  purse.  He  told  them  he  had  but  eighteen  pence, 
which  he  gave  them  freely.  This,  by  a  general  vote, 
was  condemned  to  be  spent  in  a  booze  for  his  initiation. 
They  then  commanded  him  to  kneel  down,  which 
being  done,  one  of  the  chief  of  them  took  a  gage  of 
booze,  which  is  a  quart  of  drink,  and  poured  the  same 
on  his  head,  saying,  "  I  do,  by  virtue  of  this  sovereign 
liquor,  install  thee  in  the  Roage,  and  make  thee  a  free 
denizen  of  our  ragged  regiment.  So  that  henceforth  it 
shall  be  lawful  for  thee  to  cant,  only  observing  these 
rules : — First,  that  thou  art  not  to  wander  up  and 
down  all  countries,  but  to  keep  to  that  quarter  that  is 
allotted  thee ;  and,  secondly,  thou  art  to  give  way  to 
any  of  us  that  have  borne  all  the  offices  of  the  wallet 
before;  and,  upon  holding  up  a  finger,  to  avoid  any 
town  or  country  village,  where  thou  seest  we  are 
foraging  for  victuals  for  our  army  that  march  along 
with  us.  Observing  these  two  rules,  we  take  thee  into 
our  protection,  and  adopt  thee  a  brother  of  our  nume- 
rous society." 

The  leader  having  ended  his  oration,  Nevison  rose 
up,  and  was  congratulated  by  all  the  company's  hang- 
ing about  him,  like  so  many  dogj  about  a  bear,  and 
making  such  a  hideous  noise,  that  the  chief,  command- 
ing silence,  addressed  him  as  follows: — "Now  that 
thou  art  entered  into  our  fraternity,  thou  must  not 
scruple  to  act  any  villanies,  whether  it  be  to  cut  a 
purse,  steal  a  cloak-bag,  or  portmanteau,  convey  all 
manner  of  things,  whether  a  chicken,  suckinsr-pig, 
duck,  goose,  or  hen,  or  to  steal  a  shirt  from  the  hedge ; 
for  he  that  will  be  a  quier  cove,  (a  professed  rogue.) 
must  observe  these  rules.  And  because  thou  art  but 
a  novice  in  begging,  and  understandest  not  the  myste- 
ries of  the  canting  language,  thou  shalt  have  a  wife  to 
be  thy  companion,  by  whom  thou  mayest  receive  in- 


96  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

structions."  And  thereupon,  he  singled  him  out  a  gin 
of  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  which  tickled  his 
fancy  very  much  :  but  he  must  presently  be  married 
to  her  after  the  fashion  of  their  pafrico,  who,  amongst 
beggars,  is  their  priest.  Whereupon  the  ceremony  was 
performed  after  this  manner : — 

They  took  a  hen,  and,  having  cut  off  the  head  of  it, 
laid  the  dead  body  on  the  ground,  placing  Nevison  on 
the  one  side,  and  his  intended  on  the  other ;  this  being 
done,  the  priest,  standing  by,  with  a  loud  voice  bade 
them  live  together  till  death  did  them  part ;  then 
shaking  hands,  and  kissing  each  other,  the  ceremony 
of  the  wedding  was  over,  and  the  whole  group  ap- 
peared intoxicated  with  joy.  Night  approaching,  and 
all  their  money  being  spent,  they  betook  themselves  to 
a  barn  not  far  off,  where  they  broached  a  hogshead, 
and  went  to  sleep. 

Nevison,  having  met  with  this  odd  piece  of  diversion 
in  his  journey,  slipped  out  of  the  barn  when  all  were 
asleep,  took  a  horse,  and  posted  directly  away.  But, 
coming  to  London,  he  found  there  was  too  much  noise 
about  him  to  permit  him  to  tarry  there :  he  therefore 
returned  into  the  country,  and  fell  to  his  old  pranks 
again.  Several  who  had  been  formerly  robbed  by  him, 
happening  to  meet  him,  imagined  that  his  ghost 
walked  abroad,  having  heard  the  report  of  his  pesti- 
lential death  in  Leicester  gaol.  In  short,  his  crimes 
became  so  notorious,  that  a  reward  was  offered  to  any 
that  would  apprehend  him :  this  made  many  waylay 
him,  especially  two  brothers,  named  Fletcher,  one  of 
whom  Nevison  shot  dead ;  but,  going  into  a  little  vil- 
lage about  thirteen  miles  from  York,  he  was  taken  by 
captain  Hardcastle,  and  sent  to  York  gaol,  where,  on 
the  15th  March  1684,  he  was  tried,  condemned,  and 
executed,  aged  forty-five. 


The  Golden  Farmer.        P.  99. 


99 


THE  GOLDEN  FARMER. 

This  man's  real  name  was  William  Davis,  a  natbo 
of  North  Wales,  but  he  obtained  the  title  of  Golden 
Farmer  from  his  custom  of  paying  any  considerable 
sum  in  gold.  He  was  born  in  the  year  1626.  At  an 
early  period  of  life  he  removed  to  Sudbury,  in  Glouces- 
tershire, where  he  took  a  farm,  married  the  daughter 
of  a  wealthy  innkeeper,  by  whom  he  had  eighteen 
children,  and  followed  that  industrious  employment 
merely  to  disguise  the  real  character  of  a  robber,  which 
he  sustained  without  suspicion  for  the  space  of  forty- 
two  years.  He  usually  robbed  alone.  One  day,  meet- 
ing some  stage-coaches,  he  stopped  one  of  them,  full 
of  ladies,  all  of  whom  complied  with  his  demands,  ex- 
cept a  Quaker,  who  vowed  she  had  no  money,  nor  any 
thing  valuable  about  her:  upon  which,  feari::g  lest  he 
should  lose  the  booty  of  the  other  coaches,  he  told  her 
he  would  go  and  see  what  they  could  afford  him,  and 
return  to  her  again.  Having  rifled  the  other  three 
coaches,  he  was  as  good  as  his  word;  and  the  Quaker, 
persisting  in  her  former  statement,  enraged  the  Farmer 
to  such  a  degree,  that,  seizing  her  by  the  shoulder,  and 
employing  language  which  it  would  be  hardly  proper 
here  to  set  down,  he  so  scared  the  poor  Quaker,  as  to 
cause  her  to  produce  a  purse  of  guineas,  a  gold  watch, 
and  a  diamond  ring.  Whereupon,  they  parted  as  good 
friends  as  when  they  were  first  intpoduced  to  each 
other. 

Upon  another  occasion,  our  desperado  met  the  duch- 
ess of  Albemarle  in  her  coach,  as  she  was  riding  over 
Salisbury  Plain;  but  he  encountered  greater  difficulty 
in  this  case  than  he  had  contemplated.  Before  lie 
could  assault  the  lady  he  was  compelled  to  engage  a 
I 


100  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  KOBBEKS. 


postilion,  the  coachman,  and  two  footmen  ;  but,  bavin 
disabled  them  all  by  discharging  several  pistols,  he 
approached  his  prey,  whom  he  found  more  refractory 
than  the  female  Quaker.  Perceiving  another  person 
of  quality's  coach  approaching,  with  a  retinue  of  ser- 
vants, he  was  fain  to  content  himself  by  pulling  three 
diamond  rings  from  her  fingers  by  force,  snatching  a 
rich  gold  watch  from  her  side,  and  venting  a  portion 
of  abuse  upon  her  obstinate  ladyship. 

ft  was  not  very  long  after  this  exploit,  that  our  ad- 
venturer met  with  Sir  Thomas  Day,  a  justice  of  the 
peace,  living  at  Bristol.  They  fell  into  discourse,  and, 
riding  along,  the  Golden  Farmer  informed  his  new 
acquaintance,  that  a  little  while  before,  he  had  nar- 
rowly escaped  being  robbed  by  a  couple  of  highway- 
men, but,  luckily,  his  horse  having  better  heels  than 
theirs,  he  had  got  clear  of  them.  "  Truly,"  said  Sir 
Thomas,  "  that  had  been  very  hard  :  but,  nevertheless, 
as  you  would  have  been  robbed  between  sun  and  sun, 
the  county,  upon  suing  it,  would  have  been  obliged  to 
make  your  loss  good."  Thus,  chatting  together,  and 
coming  to  a  convenient  place,  the  Golden  Farmer  shot 
Sir  Thomas's  man's  horse  under  him,  and,  compelling 
him  to  retire  to  a  distance,  presented  a  pistol  to  the 
knight's  heart,  and  demanded  his  money.  "  I  thought, 
sir,"  said  Sir  Thomas,  "  that  you  had  been  an  honest 
man."  "  Your  worship  is  mistaken,"  cried  the  Far- 
mer ;  "and  if  you  had  had  any  skill  in  physiognomy, 
you  might  have  perceived  that  my  countenance  is  the 
very  picture  of  necessity ;  so  deliver  me  presently,  f;r 
I  'm  in  haste."  Sir  Thomas,  therefore,  being  con- 
strained to  give  him  the  money  he  had  about  him, 
which  was  about  601  in  gold  and  silver,  the  oiher 
humbly  thanked  his  worship,  and  told  him,  that  what 
he  had  parted  with  was  not  lost,  because  he  haa  been 
robbed  between  sun  and  sun,  and  could  therefore  come 
upon  the  county. 

One  Mr.  Hart,  a  young  gentleman  of  Enfield,  who, 
it  appears,  possessed  a  good  estate,  but  was  not  over- 
burdened with  brains,  riding  one  day  over  Finchley 


THE  GOLDEN  FARMER.  101 

Common,  where  the  Golden  Farmer  had  been  for  some 
hours  hunting  for  prey,  was  met  by  him,  and  saluted 
with  a  smart  slap  with  the  Hat  of  his  drawn  hanger 
upon  his  shoulders:  "A  plague  on  you!"  said  the 
Farmer ;  "  how  slow  you  are,  to  make  a  man  wait  upon 
you  all  the  morning  :  come,  deliver  what  you  have, 
and  go  to  the  devil  for  orders  !"  The  young  gentle- 
man, rather  surprised  at  this  novel  greeting,  began  to 
make  several  excuses,  saying  he  had  no  money  about 
him:  but  his  incredulous  antagonist  took  the  liberty 
of  searching  him,  and,  finding  about  him  above  a 
hundred  guineas,  he  bestowed  upon  him  two  or  three 
farther  slaps  on  the  shoulders,  telling  him,  at  the  same 
time,  not  to  give  his  mind  to  lying  in  future,  when  an 
honest  gentleman  required  a  small  gratuity  from  him. 
Another  time,  this  notorious  robber  having  paid  his 
landlord  about  80/.  for  rent,  the  latter,  going  home 
with  it,  was  accosted  by  his  goodly  tenant  in  disguise, 
who,  bidding  him  stand,  said  : — "  Come,  Mr.  Gravity, 
deliver  what  you  have  in  a  trice  !"  The  old  gentle- 
man, fetching  a  deep  sigh,  to  the  hazard  of  displacing 
several  buttons  from  his  waistcoat,  told  him,  that  he 
had  not  above  two  shillings  about  him,  and  hoped, 
therefore,  he  was  more  a  gentleman  than  to  take  so  small 
a  matter  from  a  poor  man.  "  I  have  no  faith,"  replied 
the  Farmer;  "  for  you  seem,  by  your  habit  to  be  a  man 
of  better  circumstances  than  you  pretend;  therefore, 
open  your  budget,  or  I  shall  fall  foul  of  you."  "  Dear 
sir,"  cried  the  landlord,  "  you  can't  be  so  barbarous  to 
an  old  man.  What !  have  you  no  religion,  pity,  or 
compassion  in  you  ?  Have  you  no  conscience  ?  Have 
you  no  respect  for  your  body  or  soul  ?"  "  Don't  talk 
of  age  or  barbarity  to  me,"  said  the  tenant,  "for  I 
show  neither  pity  nor  compassion  to  any  body.  Talk 
of  conscience  to  me  !  I  have  no  more  of  that  dull 
commodity  than  you  have  ;  therefore,  deliver  every 
thing  you  have  about  you,  before  this  pistol  makes 
you  repent  your  obstinacy."  The  landlord  being  thus 
threatened,  delivered  his  money,  without  receiving  a 
receipt  for  it,  although  he  had  given  one  to  the  Farmer. 


102  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

An  old  grazier  at  Putney  Heath  was  the  next  victin 
to  the  avaricious  Farmer.  Having  accosted  him  on  the 
road,  he  informed  hirn  that  there  were  some  suspicious 
persons  behind  them,  whom  he  suspected  to  be  high- 
waymen; and,  if  that  should  be  the  case,  he  begged 
that  he  would  conceal  ten  guineas  for  hun,  which 
would  be  safer  with  him,  from  the  meanness  of  his 
apparel.  He  accepted  the  charge,  and  said,  that  as  ho 
himself  had  fifty  guineas  bound  in  the  lappet  of  his 
shirt,  he  would  deposit  them  along  with  his  own.  In 
a  short  time,  the  Farmer  said. — "It  does  not  appear 
that  any  person  will  run  the  risk  of  his  neck  by  rob- 
bing you  to-day;  it  will,  therefore,  be  as  well  that  I  do 
so  myself."  Without  any  farther  preamble,  therefore, 
he  demanded  of  him,  instead  of  delivering  up  his 
purse,  to  cut  off  the  lappet  of  his  shirt;  but,  declining 
to  comply  with  his  request,  the  Farmer  put  himself  to 
the  trouble  of  lightening  the  fore-garment  of  the  gra- 
zier. 

Squire  Broughton,  a  gentleman  of  the  Middle  Tem- 
ple, was  the  succeeding  prey  of  the  Golden  Farmer. 
Happening  to  meet  at  an  inn  upon  the  road,  the  Farmer 
pretended  to  be  on  his  way  to  the  capital,  concerning 
an  offence  that  a  neighboring  farmer  had  committed 
against  him,  by  allowing  his  cattle  to  break  into  his 
grounds.  Meanwhile,  he  requested  that  squire  Brough- 
ton would  recommend  him  to  an  expert  and  faithful 
agent  to  conduct  his  cause.  Like  every  other  lawyer, 
Broughton  was  desirous  to  have  him  for  a  client,  and 
proceeded  to  explain  the  nature  of  his  cause.  Having 
spent  the  night  at  the  inn,  they  proceeded  next  morn- 
ing on  their  journey,  when  the  Farmer  addressed  the 
counsellor,  saying,  "  Pray,  sir,  what  is  meant  by  trover 
and  conversion  in  the  law  of  England?"  He  replied, 
that  it  signified,  in  our  common  law,  an  action  which 
one  man  has  against  another,  who,  having  found  any 
of  his  goods,  refuses  to  deliver  them  up  on  demand, 
and  perhaps  converts  them  to  his  own  use. 

The  Golden  Farmer  being  now  at  a  place  conve- 
nient for  his  purpose,  "  Very  well,  then,  sir,"  said  he, 


THE  GOLDEN  FARMER.  103 

•  should  I  find  any  money  about  you,  and  convert  it 
fo  my  use,  it  is  only  actionable,  I  find."  "That  is  a 
robbery,"  said  the  barrister,  "which  requires  no  less  a 
satisfaction  than  a  man's  life."  "  A  robbery  !"  replied 
the  Golden  Farmer;  "why,  then,  I  must  commit  one 
in  my  time  :"  and  presenting  his  pistol,  he  instantly 
demanded  his  money  or  his  life.  Surprised  at  his 
client's  rough  behavior,  the  lawyer  began  to  remon- 
strate in  strong  terms  upon  the  impropriety  of  his 
conduct,  urging,  that  it  was  both  contrary  to  law  and 
to  conscience.  His  eloquent  pleading,  however,  made 
no  impression  upon  the  mind  of  the  Farmer,  who, 
putting  a  pistol  to  his  breast,  compelled  the  lawyer  to 
deliver  his  money,  amounting  to  the  sum  of  40/.,  some 
large  pieces  of  gold,  and  a  gold  watch. 

One  day,  accosting  a  tinker  upon  the  road,  whom  be 
knew  to  have  11.  or  8/.  upon  him,  he  said,  "  Well, 
brother  tinker,  you  seem  to  be  very  decent,  for  your 
life  is  a  continual  pilgrimage,  and,  in  humility,  you  go 
almost  barefooted,  making  necessity  a  virtue."  "  Ay, 
master,"  replied  the  tinker,  necessity  compels  when 
the  devil  drives,  and,  had  you  no  more  than  I,  you 
would  do  the  same."  "  That  might  be,"  replied  the 
Farmer,  "and  1  suppose  you  march  all  over  England." 
"Yes,"  said  the  tinker,  "I  go  a  great  deal  of  ground, 
but  not  so  much  as  you  ride."  "  Be  this  as  it  will,  I 
suppose  that  your  conversation  is  unblamable,  be- 
cause you  are  continually  mending."  "  I  wish,"  re- 
plied the  tinker,  "  that  as  much  could  be  said  in  com- 
mendation of  your  character."  The  Farmer  replied, 
that  he  was  not  like  him,  who  would  rather  steal  than 
beg:,  in  defiance  of  whips  or  imprisonment.  Deter- 
mined to  have  the  last  word  of  the  Farmer,  the  tinker 
rejoined,  "I  would  have  you  to  know,  that  I  take  a 
great  deal  of  pains  for  a  livelihood."  The  Farmer, 
equally  loquacious,  replied,  "  I  know  that  you  are  such 
an  enemy  to  idleness,  that,  rather  than  want  work, 
you  will  make  three  holes  in  mending  one"  "That 
may  be.  said  the  honest  tinker,  "  but  I  begin  to  wish 
that  there  were  a  greater  distance  between  us,  as  I  dr 


104  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

neither  love  your  conversation  nor  appearance."  "  1 
a  in  equally  ready  to  say  the  same  of  you  ;  for,  though 
you  are  entertained  in  every  place,  yet  you  are  seldom 
permitted  to  enter  the  door  of  any  dwelling."  The 
tinker  repeated  his  strong  suspicions  of  the  Farmer. 
"  Nor  shall  it  be  without  cause  !"  exclaimed  he  ; 
"therefore,  open  your  wallet,  and  deliver  the  money 
that  is  there."  Here  their  dialogue  being  about  to 
close,  the  tinker  entreated  that  he  would  not  rob  him, 
as  he  was  above  a  hundred  miles  from  home :  but  the 
Golden  Farmer,  being  indifferent  to  all  the  consequences 
of  the  loss  of  the  other's  property,  seized  both  his  wal- 
let and  his  money,  and  left  the  poor  tinker  to  renew 
his  journey  and  his  toils. 

This  famous  highwayman  had  only  a  few  more  acts 
of  violence  to  perform.  His  actions  and  character 
being  now  universally  known,  many  a  hue-and-cry 
was  sent  after  him,  and  conspired  to  his  overthrow. 
He  was  seized  and  imprisoned,  tried,  and  condemnod. 
He  spent  his  time  in  prison  in  the  same  merry  way  in 
which  his  former  life  had  been  passed,  and  a  violent 
death  terminated  his  wicked  course  on  the  20th  De- 
cember 1689. 


JONATHAN  SIMPSON. 

This  man  was  the  son  of  a  respectable  gentleman  in 
Launceston,  in  Cornwall,  and  put  an  apprentice  to  a 
linen-draper.  After  serving  his  time  with  great  appro- 
bation, his  father  gave  him  1500/.  to  commence  busi- 
ness for  himself. 

He  had  not  been  a  year  in  business  when  he  mar- 
ried a  merchant's  daughter,  and  received  with  her 
2000/.  of  portion.  Such  an  accession  to  his  wealth 
enabled  him  to  extend  his  business,  and  to  conduct  it 
with  ease.     But   money    cannot    procure    happiness. 


JONATHAN  SIMPSON.  105 

The  affections  of  the  young  lady  had  been  gained  by 
a  man  of  less  fortune,  and,  to  please  her  father,  she  had 
given  her  hand  where  she  conld  not  bestow  her  heart ; 
and,  though  married  to  another,  she  continued  in  a 
degree  of  familiarity  with  her  former  lover  that  excited 
her  husband's  jealousy,  the  most  violent  of  all  the 
passions. 

In  a  short  time,  after  having  lived  in  a  very  unhappy 
manner,  Simpson  took  the  opportunity  to  sell  all  off, 
and,  having  shut,  up  shop,  went  away  with  what 
money  he  could  raise,  determined  no  longer  to  remain 
in  Bristol.  He  was  now  possessed  of  about  5000/.  but 
his  expenses  were  so  extravagant,  that  this  large  sum 
was  soon  exhausted.  He  then  went  to  the  highway, 
committed  a  robbery,  was  apprehen  led,  and  would 
certainly  have  been  hanged,  had  not  some  of  his  rich 
relations  procured  a  reprieve.  The  difficulty  of  ob- 
taining it  may  be  guessed  from  the  fact,  that  it  arrived 
at  Tyburn  just  when  the  rope  was  about  his  neck. 
Such  was  his  obduracy,  that,  when  returning  to  New- 
gate behind  one  of  the  sheriff's  men,  the  latter  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  a  reprieve  when  he  was  come 
to  the  gallows.  "  No  more  than  I  thought  of  my 
dying  day." 

When  he  came  to  the  prison-door,  the  turnkey  re- 
fused to  receive  him,  saying,  that  he  was  sent  to  be 
executed,  and  that  he  was  discharged  of  him,  and 
would  not  permit  him  to  enter  without  a  new  warrant. 
Upon  which  Simpson  exclaimed,  "  What  an  unhappy 
cast-off  dog  am  I,  that  both  Tyburn  and  Newgate 
should  in  one  day  refuse  to  entertain  me  !  Well,  I'll 
mend  my  manners  for  the  future,  and  try  whether  I 
can't  merit  a  reception  at  them  both,  next  time  I  am 
brought  thither." 

He  immediately  recommenced  his  operations,  ar.d 
one  day  robbed  a  gentleman  of  a  purse  full  of  coun- 
ters, which  he  supposed  were  gold.  He  kept  them  in 
his  pockets,  always  anxiously  looking  out  for  his  bene- 
factor. About  four  months  after,  he  met  him  upon 
Bagshot  heath,  riding  in  a  coach :  dt  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I 

5 


106  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

believe  yon  made  a  mistake  the  last  time  I  had  the 
happiness  of  seeing  yon,  in  giving  these  pieces.  1  have 
b?.eii  troubled  ever  since,  lest  yon  should  have  wanted 
them  at  cards,  and  am  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  re- 
turn them ;  only,  for  my  care,  I  require  you  to  come 
this  moment  out  of  your  coach,  and  give  me  your 
breeches,  that  I  may  search  them  at  leisure,  and  not 
trust  any  more  to  your  generosity,  lest  you  should 
mistake  again."  A  pistol  enforced  his  demand,  and 
Simpson  found  a  gold  watch,  a  gold  snuff-box,  and 
ninety-eight  guineas,  with  five  jacobuses. 

At  another  time,  he  robbed  lord  Delamere  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty  guineas.  He  was  almost  unequalled 
in  his  depredations:  in  one  day  he  robbed  nineteen 
different  people,  and  took  above  200/. ;  and,  in  the  space 
of  six  weeks,  committed  forty  robberies  in  the  county 
of  Middlesex.  He  even  ventured  to  attack  the  duke 
of  Berwick,  and  took  from  him  articles  to  a  very  great 
value. 

But  wickedness  has  a  boundary  over  which  it  can- 
not pass.  Simpson  attacked  two  captains  of  the 
guards :  a  strong  struggle  ensued :  his  horse  was  shot 
under  him.  and  he  was  wounded  in  both  arms  and 
one  of  his  legs  before  he  was  taken.  He  was  sent  to 
Newgate,  and  now  found  that  he  was  not  refused  en- 
trance :  and  he  soon  also  discovered,  that  Tyburn  was 
equally  ready  to  receive  him.  His  execution  took  place 
on  the  Sth  September  16S6. 


107 


WILLIAM  CADY. 

This  gentleman  was  a  native  of  Norfc'k  county,  and 
the  son  of  an  eminent  surgeon.  After  the  preparatory 
steps  of  education,  William  went  to  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  and  was  tutor  to  lord  Townsheud.  He 
was  during  that  time  mado  bachelor  of  arts,  and  con- 
tinued to  pursue  his  studies  until  deprived  of  his  father 
by  death. 

The  loss  of  a  prudent  father  to  a  young  man,  forms 
a  remarkable  era  in  his  life.  If  he  is  left  with  an 
ample  fortune,  he  has  then  the  means  of  gratifying  his 
wishes,  whether  in  the  field  of  benevolence  or  in  that 
of  dissipation  :  and  though  left  with  no  fortune,  yet  he  is 
then  at  full  liberty  to  follow  his  ruling  inclination. 
Upon  the  intelligence  of  his  father's  death,  William 
went  to  London  and  began  to  practise  medicine.  His 
first  patient  was  his  own  uncle,  who,  being  dangerously 
afFected  with  an  imposthume,  was  cured  by  him  in  the 
following  manner: — 

When  he  entered  his  uncle's  bedchamber,  his  first 
care  was  to  examine  the  state  of  the  old  gentleman's 
stomach :  for  this  purpose  he  ranged  abcut  the  room, 
overturning  every  plate  and  dish,  to  discover  what  had 
been  given  him  to  eat.  He  at  last  discovered  an  old 
saddle,  which  he  thought  would  answer  for  the  intend- 
ed experiment.  Upon  seeing  this  he  cried  out,  "  Uncle, 
your  case  is  very  desperate  !" — "  Not  so  bad,  I  hope," 
said  the  uncle,  "  as  to  make  me  past  remedy." — "  Hea- 
ven knows  that,"  cried  Cady,  "but  a  surfeit  is  a  terri- 
■ble  thing,  and  I  perceive  that  you  have  got  a  violent 
one." — "A  surfeit!"  said  the  old  gentleman;  "you 
mistake,  nephew;  it  is  an  imposthume  that  1  am  af- 
fected  with." — "The  deuce   it    is!"    replied   Cady; 


108  LIVES    OF    HIGHWAYMEN    AND    ROBBERS. 

<r  why,  I  conld  have  sworn  it  had  been  a  surfeit,  for  1 
perceive  you  have  eaten  a  whole  horse,  and  left  us  only 
the  saddle  !"  At  this  he  held  up  the  saddle  ;  and  the 
old  gentleman  fell  into  such  a  fit  of  laughter  as  instant- 
ly broke  his  imposthume,  so  that  he  became  quite  well 
in  less  than  a  fortnight. 

This  is  not  the  only  instance  of  a  disease  of  this 
nature  being  cured  by  a  fit  of  laughter;  and  it  is  cer- 
tainly an  agreeable  mode  of  being  relieved  of  a  painfu* 
and  dangerous  malady. 

A  cardinal  at  Padua,  who  was  at  the  point  of  death, 
under  the  influence  of  this  distemper,  being  past  ail 
hopes  of  recovery,  his  servants  had  begun  to  pillage  his 
house,  and  even  to  make  free  with  the  hangings  of  his 
own  bed.  An  ape,  in  the  midst  of  this  bustle,  seized  a 
nightcap  that  lay  near,  fixed  it  upon  his  head,  and 
made  so  many  and  such  curious  tricks,  that  his  rever- 
ence fell  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and  broke  the  impos- 
thume, to  the  preservation  of  his  life  and  property. 

Another  instance  may  be  related.  A  countrywoman, 
very  ignorant  and  superstitious,  took  it  into  her  head 
to  send  for  the  parson  of  the  parish  to  pray  for  the 
recovery  of  her  cow,  which  was  affected  with  a  dis- 
temper incident  to  animals  of  that  species.  Not  sus- 
.pecting  but  that  he  was  called  to  visit  the  woman  her- 
self, or  some  of  her  family  in  affliction,  the  pious  man 
went  forthwith,  and,  to  his  surprise,  was  not  only  in- 
formed why  he  was  sent  for,  but  the  good  woman 
insisted  that  he  should  go  and  see  her  cow  before  she 
would  allow  him  to  depart.  Unable  to  resist  her  im- 
portunities, he  went  to  the  byre,  and  taking  a  handful 
of  the  short  straw  that  lay  beside  the  cow,  spread  it 
upon  her  back,  saying,  "  Poor  beast,  if  you  be  no  better 
for  this,  you  will  be  no  worse."  The  parson  returned 
home,  and  the  good  woman  was  highly  displeased  with 
his  indifference  towards  her  favorite  cow. 

It  happened,  soon  after,  that  she  had  an  opportunity 
to  retaliate:  the  parson  was  taken  dangerously  ill  of 
an  imposthume,  and  the  woman,  hearing  of  jt,  went  to 
return  his  visit     Arrived  at  the  parson's  house,  she,  in 


WILLIAM    CADY.  109 

consequence  of  her  importunities,  was  admitted  into  his 
bedchamber;  and,  having  kindly  inquired  after  his 
health,  went  forward  to  the  chimney,  and  taking  up  a 
handful  of  ashes  from  the  hearth,  scattered  them  over 
the  parson,  using  his  own  words,  "Poor  man  !  if  you 
be  no  better  for  this,  you  will  be  no  worse;"  which 
raised  such  a  fit  of  laughter  in  the  good  man,  that  his 
imposthume  broke  and  his  cure  was  effected. 

For  the  speedy  and  unexpected  cure  before  related, 
the  uncle  of  Cady  gave  him  fifty  guineas,  which  sup- 
plied his  extravagances  for  one  month.  His  purse 
being  empty,  he  took  his  leave  of  the  healing  art,  in 
which  he  had  been  so  successful,  and  commenced  rob- 
ber. His  first  adventure  was  with  a  captain  of  the 
guards  and  another  gentleman,  of  whom  he  inquired 
the  way  to  Staines,  as  he  was  a  stranger.  They  in- 
formed him  that  they  were  going  to  that  place,  and 
that  they  would  be  glad  of  his  company.  When  he 
arrived  at  a  convenient  place,  Cady  shot  the  gentleman 
through  the  head,  and,  turning  to  the  officer,  told  him 
that  "  if  he  did  not  deliver,  he  should  share  the  same 
fate."  The  other  replied  that  as  he  was  a  captain  of 
the  guards,  Cady  must  fight  if  he  expected  to  get  any- 
thing from  him.  "If  you  are  a  soldier,"  cried  Cady, 
"you  ought  to  obey  the  word  of  command,  otherwise 
you  know  your  sentence:  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
tie  you  neck  and  heel."  "You  are  an  unconscionable 
rogue,"  said  the  captain,  "  to  demand  money  of  me, 
who  never  owed  you  any."  "Sir,"  replied  Cady, 
"  there  is  not  a  man  that  travels  the  road  but  owes  me 
money,  if  he  has  any  about  him :  therefore,  as  you  are 
one  of  my  debtors,  if  you  do  not  pay  me  instantly, 
your  blood  shall  satisfy  my  demand."  The  captain 
exchanged  several  shots  with  Cady;  but  his  horse 
being  killed  under  him,  he  surrendered  his  watch,  a 
diamond  ring,  and  a  purse  of  twenty  guineas.  William, 
having  collected  all  he  could,  tied  the  captain  neck  and 
heel,  nailed  the  skirts  of  his  coat  to  a  tree,  and  rode  off 
in  search  of  more  booty. 

His  next  encounter  was  with  viscount  Dundee,  who 
j 


110  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

commanded  the  forces  of  James  VII.  of  Scotland,  and 
the  second  of  England,  and  fell  in  the  battle  of  Killi- 
crankie.  Dundee  was  mounted  upon  horseback,  at- 
tended by  two  servants.  Cady  rode  up  to  them  at  full 
speed,  and  inquired  if  they  did  not  see  a  man  ride  past 
with  more  than  ordinary  haste.  "  Yes,"  he  was  pre- 
sently answered.  "He  has  robbed  me  of  twenty  pounds 
that  1  was  going  to  pay  my  landlord,  and  I  am  utterly 
mined !"  cried  Cady.  The  man  who  had  ridden  by 
was  a  confederate,  and  had  done  so  by  express  concert. 
His  lordship  was  moved  with  compassion,  and  ordered 
the  two  footmen  to  pursue  the  robber.  When  the  ser- 
vants seemed  to  have  got  to  a  sufficient  distance,  Cady 
turned  upon  his  lordship,  and  robbed  him  of  a  gold 
watch,  a  gold  snuff-box,  and  fifty  guineas.  He  then 
shot  the  viscount's  horse,  and  rode  after  the  footmen, 
whom  he  found  about  a  mile  orT  with  the  supposed 
robber  as  their  prisoner.  These  men  were  surprised 
when  Cady  desired  them  to  let  him  go,  and  laughed  at 
them  for  what  they  had  done.  They,  however,  refu- 
sing to  part  with  their  prey,  a  scuffle  ensued,  and  one 
of  the  footmen  being  slain,  the  other  fled,  and  found 
that  his  master  had  been  dismounted  and  robbed. 

Dundee  complained  of  this  injury  at  court,  and  a 
reward  of  two  hundred  pounds  was  offered  to  any  per- 
son who  should  apprehend  either  Cady  or  his  com- 
panion, who  were  both  minutely  described.  To  evade 
the  diligent  search  which  he  was  certain  this  proclama- 
tion would  occasion,  he  went  over  to  Flanders.  As  he 
had  received  a  liberal  education,  he  entered  himself  of 
the  English  seminary  of  Douay,  and.  joining  the  fra- 
ternity of  Benedictine  friars,  soon  acquired  an  extraor- 
dinary character  for  learning  and  piety.  The  natural 
result  was,  that  many  penitents  resorted  to  him  for 
confession.  The  rigid  sanctity  and  ecclesiastical  duties 
of  Cady  were,  however,  soon  found  rather  troublesome 
companions,  and  he  resolved  to  return  to  England,  pre- 
ferring his  rambles  upon  the  highway  to  the  devotions 
of  the  convent.  But,  as  money  was  necessary  for  his 
voyage,  his  invention  was  again  set  in  motion. 


WILLIAM    CADY.  Ill 

To  effect  his  purpose,  he  feigned  himself  sick,  and, 
being  confined  to  bed,  was  visited  by  many  of  those 
who  had  formerly  employed  him  as  their  father-con- 
fessor. He  particularly  fixed  his  attention  upon  two 
young  women,  who  generally  came  together,  and  were 
both  very  rich  and  very  handsome.  He  had  previously 
procured  a  brace  of  pistols.  When  the  ladies  next  came 
to  him  and  had  made  their  confession,  he  desired  them 
presently  to  attend  to  him.  He  briefly  informed  them 
that  he  was  greatly  in  want  of  money,  and  that  if  they 
did  not  instantly  supply  his  wants,  he  would  deprive 
them  of  their  lives,  hoiding  at  the  same  time  a  pistol 
to  their  breasts.  He  then  proceeded  to  rifle  their  pock- 
ets, where  he  found  fifty  pistoles.  In  addition  to  this, 
he  compelled  them  to  make  an  offering  of  two  diamond 
rings  from  their  fingers;  then,  binding  them  neck  and 
heel,  he.informed  the  father  of  the  convent  that  he  was 
going  to  walk  a  little  in  the  fields,  and  would  soon 
return.  It  is  needless  to*  say  that  he  returned  no  more 
to  his  religious  habitation,  but  renewed  his  former  mode 
of  life. 

Scarcely  was  he  arrived  in  England,  when  he  met  a 
hop  merchant,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  upon  Black- 
heath,  and  commanded  them  to  stand  and  deliver. 
The  merchant  made  a  stout  resistance,  firing  two  pis- 
tols, but  without  effect ;  so  that  he  was  left  to  the  mercy 
of  the  robber,  who  killed  their  horse,  and,  examining 
their  pockets,  found  twenty-eight  pounds  upon  the 
merchant,  and  half  a  crown  upon  his  wife. 

Cady  then  addressed  her  thus:  "Is  this  your  way 
of  travelling  1  What  !  carry  but  half  a  crown  in  your 
pocket  when  you  are  to  meet  a  gentleman-collector  on 
the  highway?  I  '11  assure  you,  madam,  I  shall  be  even 
with  you,  therefore  off  with  that  ring  from  your  finger." 
She  begged  him  to  spare  her  marriage  ring,  as  she 
would  not  lose  it  for  double  the  value,  having  kept  and 
worn  it  these  twenty  years.  "You  whining  old  wo- 
man," quoth  William,  ''marriage  is  nothing  to  me; — 
am  1  to  be  more  favorable  to  you  than  any  other  wo- 
man, I  '11  warrant  ?     Give  me  the  ring  in  a  moment. 


112  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

without  any  more  cant,  or  I  shall  make  bold  to  cut  ofT 
your  finger  for  despatch,  as  1  have  served  several  of 
your  sex  before."  The  good  woman,  seeing  all  her 
entreaties  vain,  hastily  pulled  the  ring  off  her  finger, 
and  thrust  it  into  her  mouth.  Cady  then  stamped, 
raged,  and  swore  that  he  would  be  even  With  hei  ;  and 
instantly  shooting  her  through  the  head,  went  away 
perfectly  unmoved,  while  the  husband,  being  tied  to  a 
tree,  was  a  spectator  of  this  horrid  barbarity. 

Cady  rode  instantly  to  London,  but  fearing  that  even 
that  great  city  could  not  conceal  the  author  of  a  ciime 
so  unparalleled,  he  left  the  metropolis,  and  went  to 
Scotland.  Either  his  inclinations  did  not  lead  him,  or 
he  deemed  that  country  too  poor  to  afford  him  sufficient 
booty;  he  therefore  soon  returned  again  to  England. 
On  his  road  to  the  capital,  between  Ferrybridge  and 
Doncaster,  he  met  with  Dr.  Morton,  a  prebendary  of 
Durham,  well  mounted;  but  whether  meditating  upon 
the  amount  of  his  tithes,  or  the  next  Sabbath's  sermon, 
is  uncertain.  Cady  instantly  rode  up  to  him,  and  cried, 
"Deliver,  or  you  are  a  dead  msm !"  The  doctor,  un- 
accustomed to  such  language,  began  to  admonish  him 
concerning  the  atrocity  of  his  conduct,  and  the  danger 
that  he  was  in,  both  with  respect  to  his  body  and  his 
soul.  Cady  stared  him  in  the  face  with  all  the  ferocity 
that  he  could  muster,  and  informed  him  thrt  his  remon- 
strances were  in  vain,  saying,  that  if  he  did  not  deliver 
him  what  he  had,  he  should  speedily  send  him  out  of 
the  world.  "  But  then,"  added  Cady,  "  that  is  nothing, 
because  all  the  gentlemen  of  your  cloth  are  prepared 
for  death.  What,  you  unreasonable,  you  unmannerly 
dog !"  continued  he,  in  a  rage,  unable  to  discover  the 
doctor's  cash,  "  what  do  you  mean,  to  meet  a  man  in 
the  midst  of  his  journey,  without  bringing  him  any 
money  to  pay  his  charges?"  For  the  doctor  had  taken 
care  to  hide  his  money  in  a  hedge,  so  that  Cady,  upon 
examining  him,  found  his  pockets  completely  empty. 
The  ruffian,  convinced  that  a  man  of  his  appearance 
could  not  travel  without  money,  with  dreadful  impre- 
cations threatened  that  if  he  would  not  inform  him 


WILLIAM    CADY.  113 

rhat  he  had  done  with  it,  he  should  never  go  home 
dive.  The  doctor  insisting  that  he  had  none,  the 
wretch  shot  him  through  the  heart  with  as  little  re- 
morse as  he  would  have  drunk  a  glass  of  burgundy. 

He  next  undertook  a  journey  into  Norfolk  to  visit 
/lis  relations,  hut  meeting  a  coach  near  that  place,  in 
which  were  three  gentlemen  and  a  lady,  he  rode  up  to 
it.  and  addressed  them  in  his  own  language.  The 
gentlemen,  however,  were  resolved  to  stand  upon  the 
defensive,  and  one  of  them  fired  a  blunderbuss  at  him, 
which  only  grazed  his  arm,  without  doing  any  material 
injury.  This  put  him  into  a  violent  passion,  and.  after 
taking  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  from  the  company, 
he  brutally  added,  that  the  gentleman  who  fired  at  him 
should  not  pass  unpunished,  and  instantly  shot  him 
through  the  heart;  then,  cutting  the  reins  of  the  horses, 
he  went  off  in  search  of  new  plunder,  and  declined 
visiting  his  relations  upon  that  occasion,  lest  he  should 
have  been  detected. 

Directing  his  course  to  London,  he  came  up  with  a 
lady  taking  a  ride  for  the  benefit  of  the  air,  attended  by 
a  single  footman,  and  fell  upon  her  in  a  very  rude 
manner,  pulling  a  diamond  ring  from  her  finger,  a  gold 
watch  out  of  her  pocket,  and  a  purse  with  eighty  gui- 
neas; insulting  her  meanwhile  with  opprobrious  lan- 
guage. Though  the  lady  had  commanded  her  footman 
not  to  interfere,  yet  the  man  could  not  help  compli- 
menting Cady  with  some  well-merited  appellations. 
The  ferocious  monster,  without  uttering  a  word,  sa- 
luted him  with  a  brace  of  bullets  in  the  head,  and  he 
fell  upon  the  spot.  Cady  was  just  about  to  prosecute 
his  journey,  when  two  gentlemen,  perceiving  what  he 
had  done,  rode  up  to  him  with  pistols  in  their  hands. 
Cady  seeing  his  danger,  fired  at  them,  and  shots  were 
exchanged  with  the  greatest  rapidity,  until  Cady's 
horse  was  shot  under  him ;  and  even  then  he  struggled 
with  the  greatest  violence  with  the  gentlemen,  until  his 
strength  was  exhausted ;  he  was  then  apprehended,  * 
and  carried  to  Newgate  under  a  strong  guard.  There 
he  remained  until   the   assizes,  without  showing  the 


114  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

least  signs  of  repentance,  or  tokens  of  regret.  Upon 
his  trial  he  behaved  with  the  most  daring  insolence, 
ceiling  the  judges  "a  huddle  of  alms- women,"  and 
treating  the  jury  in  the  same  manner.  The  crime  for 
which  he  was  accused  was  so  clearly  proved,  that  he 
was  sentenced  to  death,  and  committed  to  the  con- 
demned hole.  But  this  place  of  darkness  and  horror 
had  no  effect  upon  his  mind.  He  continued  to  roar, 
curse,  blaspheme,  and  get  drunk,  as  he  had  always 
done.  It  is  probable  that  the  hope  of  pardon,  by  the 
influence  of  some  friends  at  court,  tended  to  harden 
him  the  more;  but  the  number  and  enormity  of  his 
crimes  prevented  James  the  Second  from  extending  his 
royal  mercy  to  such  a  miscreant.  The  day  of  execu- 
tion being  come,  and  the  cart  stopping  as  usual  under 
St.  Sepulchre's  wall,  while  the  bellman  rang  his  bell 
and  repeated  his  exhortations,  instead  of  being  moved, 
he  began  to  swear  and  to  rail  because  they  stooped 
him  to  hear  an  old  puppy  chatter  nonsense.  At  Ty- 
burn he  acted  in  a  similar  manner:  without  either  tak- 
ing any  notice  of  the  ordinary,  praying  by  himself,  or 
addressing  the  people,  he  rushed  into  an  eternal  state 
to  suffer  the  jurt  punishment  of  his  great  and  numerous 
offences.  He  died  in  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age, 
in  the  year  1687. 


PATRICK  O' BRIAN. 

Patrick  O' Brian  was  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  his 
parents  were  very  indigent.  He  came  over  to  England, 
and  enlisted  in  the  Coldstream  Guards.  He  was,  how- 
ever, not  so  dexterous  in  the  use  of  his  arms  as  he  was 
in  the  practice  of  all  manner  of  vice.  Patrick  was 
resolved  not  to  want  money,  if  there  was  any  in  the 
country.    He  first  ran  into  debt  at  all  the  public  houses 


PATRICK    O'BRIAN.  115 

ami  shops  that  would  trust  him ;  then  borrowed  from 
every  person,  as  long  as  any  one  could  be  found  to 
believe  him. 

When  fraud  failed  him,  he  had  recourse  to  force. 
Doctor  Clevver,  rector  of  Cruydon,  was  the  first  whom 
.le  attacked.  This  man  had  been,  in  his  youth,  tried 
at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  burned  in  the  hand,  for  stealing 
a  silver  cup.  Alluding  to  this,  Patrick  said,  that  '  he 
could  not  refuse  lending  a  little  assistance  to  one  of  his 
old  profession."  The  doctor  assured  him  that  "  he  ad 
not  made  a  word,1  if  he  had  had  any  money  about  him; 
but  he  had  not  so  much  as  a  single  farthing."  "  Then," 
said  Patrick,  u  I  must  have  your  gown,  sir."  u  If  you 
can  win  it,"  cried  the  doctor,  "  you  shall ;  but  let  me 
have  the  chance  of  a  game  of  cards."  To  this  O'Bnan 
consented;  and  the  doctor  pulling  out  a  pack  of  cards, 
they  commenced.  Patrick  was  victorious,  and  ob- 
tained the  black  gown. 

One  day,  Patrick  attacked  a  famous  posture-master, 
and  commanded  him  to  "  stand  and  deliver !"  The 
latter  instantly  jumped  over  his  head,  which  led  Pat- 
rick to  suppose  that  it  was  the  devil  come  to  sport  with 
him  before  his  time.  By  this  display  of  his  agility  the 
harlequin  escaped  with  his  money,  and  had  tl  e  good 
fortune  never  to  afford  to  O'Brian  an  opportunity  to  be 
revenged  of  him  for  his  fright. 

Our  adventurer  at  last  commenced  highwayman. 
For  this  purpose  he  purchased  a  horse  and  other  neces- 
saries, and  began  in  due  form.  He  one  day  met  with 
the  celebrated  Nell  Gwynne  in  her  coach,  and  addressed 
her,  saying :  "  Madam,  1  am  a  gentleman ;  1  have  done 
a  great  many  signal  services  to  the  fair  sex,  and  have, 
in  return,  been  all  my  life  maintained  by  them.  Now, 
as  I  know  that  you  are  a  charitable  woman,  I  make 
bold  to  ask  you  for  a  little  money,  though  I  never  had 
the  honor  of  serving  you  in  particular.  However,  if 
any  opportunity  shall  ever  fall  in  my  way,  you  may 
depend  upon  it  T  will  not  be  ungrateful."  Nell  made 
him  a  present  often  guineas,  and  he  went  off  in  quest 
of  more  plunder. 


116  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

It  was  with  O' Brian  as  with  every  other  wicked 
man :  he  was  solicitous  to  lead  others  to  the  same  line 
of  conduct.  In  particular,  he  seduced  a  young  man, 
of  the  name  of  Wilt,  who  was  apprehended,  and  suffer- 
ed for  his  first  offence.  O' Brian  was  also  apprehended, 
and  executed  at  Gloucester;  and  when  he  had  hung 
the  usual  time,  his  body  was  cut  down,  and  given  to 
his  friends ;  but  when  carried  home,  he  was  observed 
to  move,  on  which  a  surgeon  was  immediately  sent  for, 
who  bled  him ;  and  other  means  being  used,  he  reco- 
vered life.  This  fact  was  kept  a  secret,  and  it  was 
hoped  that  it  would  have  had  a  salutary  effect  upon  his 
future  conduct.  His  friends  were  very  willing  to  con- 
tribute towards  his  support,  in  order  that  he  might  live 
in  the  most  retired  manner,  and  O' Brian  engaged  to 
reform  his  life,  and  for  some  time  kept  his  promise; 
but  the  impressions  of  death,  and  all  its  tremendous 
consequences,  soon  wearing  off  his  mind,  he  returned 
to  his  vicious  courses.  Abandoning  his  friends,  and 
purchasing  a  horse  and  other  necessaries,  O' Brian 
again  visited  the  road. 

In  about  a  year  after  his  execution  he  met  the  very 
gentleman  who  was  his  former  prosecutor,  and  attacked 
him  in  the  same  manner  as  before.  The  gentleman 
was  surprised  to  see  himself  stopped  by  the  very  same 
person  who  had  formerly  robbed  him,  and  who  was 
executed  for  that  crime.  His  consternation  was  so 
great  that  he  could  not  avoid  exhibiting  it,  and  he 
addressed  O'Brian,  saying,  "How  comes  this  to  pass? 
I  thought  that  you  had  been  hanged  a  twelvemonth 
ago."  "So  I  was,  and  therefore  you  ought  to  imagine 
that  what  you  now  see  is  only  my  ghost.  However, 
lest  you  should  be  so  uncivil  as  to  hang  my  ghost  too, 
I  think  it  my  best  way  to  secure  you."  Upon  this,  he 
discharged  a  pistol  through  the  gentleman's  head,  and,, 
alighting  from  his  horse,  cut  his  body  in  pieces  with 
his  hanger. 

One  barbarity  was  followed  by  a  greater.  O'Brian, 
accompanied  by  four  others,  attacked  the  house  of 
Launcelot  Wilmot,    Esq.   of  Wiltshire;    entered,   and 


THOMAS    KUMBOLD.  117 

bound  all  the  servants;  then  went  up  to  the  gentle- 
man's own  room,  and  bound  him  and  his  wife.  They 
next  proceeded  to  the  daughter's  chamber,  whom  they 
stabbed  to  the  heart,  and  having  returned,  in  the  same 
manner  butchered  the  old  people,  and  rifled  the  house 
to  the  value  of  two  thousand  five  hundred  pounds. 

This  miscreant  continued  his  depredations  two  years 
longer,  until  one  of  his  accomplices  confessed  his  crime, 
and  informed  upon  all  who  were  concerned.  Our 
adventurer  was  seized  at  his  lodgings  at  Little  Suffolk 
street,  and  conveyed  to  Salisbury,  where  he  acknow- 
ledged the  crime.  He  was  a  second  time  executed, 
and,  to  prevent  another  resuscitation,  was  hung  in 
chains,  near  the  place  where  the  crime  was  perpe- 
trated, on  the  30th  of  April,  1689. 


THOMAS  RUMBOLD. 


Rumbold  was  the  son  of  honest  and  industrious  pa- 
rents, who  lived  at  Ipswich,  in  Suffolk.  In  his  youth 
he  was  apprenticed  to  a  bricklayer;  but  evil  inclina- 
tions gaining  an  ascendancy  over  his  mind,  he  quitted 
his  employment  before  a  third  part  of  his  time  was 
expired.  In  order  to  support  himself  after  having  ab- 
sconded, and  conceiving  a  great  desire  to  see  London, 
he  repaired  thither,  and  soon  confederated  himself  with 
a  gang  of  robbers.  Li  conjunction  with  these  he  shared 
in  many  daring  exploits;  but  wishing  to  try  his  skill 
and  fortune  alone,  he  left  them,  and  repaired  to  the 
road. 

He  travelled  from  London  with  the  intention  of  way- 
'aying  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury.  Having  got  sight 
of  the  party  between  Rochester  and  Sittingbourne  in 
Kent,  he  got  into  a  field,  and  placing  a  tablecloth  t>n 
the  grass,  on  which  he  placed  several  handfuls  of  gold 
and  silver,  took  a  box  and  dice  out  of  his  pocket,  and 


118  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBEKS. 

commenced  a  game  at  hazard  by  himself.  His  grace 
observing  him  in  this  situation,  sent  a  servant  to  in- 
quire the  meaning;  who  upon  coming  near  Rumbold, 
heard  him  swearing  and  rioting  about  his  losses,  but 
never  paid  the  least  attention  to  his  questions.  The 
servant  returned  and  informed  the  prelate,  who  alight- 
ed, and  seeing  none  but  Rumbold,  asked  him  whom  he 
was  playing  with.  "Pray,  sir,"  said  Rumbold,  "be 
silent — five  hundred  pounds  lost  in  a  jiffey  !"  His 
grace  was  about  to  speak  again — "Ay,"  continued 
Rumbold,  continuing  to  play  on,  "  there  goes  a  hundred 
more!"  "  Pr'ythee,"  said  the  archbishop,  "do  tell  me 
whom  you  piay  with."  Rumbold  replied,  "  With 
,"  naming  some  one  who  perhaps  never  had  exist- 
ence. "And  how  will  you  send  the  money  to  him?" 
"  By  his  ambassadors,"  quoth  Rumbold  ;  "  and,  consi- 
dering your  grace  as  one  of  them  extraordinary,  I  shall 
beg  the  favor  of  you  to  carry  it  to  him."  He  accord- 
ingly rose  and  rode  up  to  the  carriage,  and,  placing  in 
the  seat  about  six  hundred  pounds,  rode  off.  He  pro- 
ceeded on  the  road  he  knew  the  archbishop  had  to  tra- 
vel, and  both,  having  refreshed  at  Sittingbourne,  again 
took  the  road,  Rumbold  preceding  the  bishop  by  a  little 
distance.  He  waited  at  a  convenient  place,  and  again 
seated  himself  on  the  grass  in  the  same  manner  as 
before,  only  having  very  little  money  on  the  cloth. 
The  bishop  again  observed  him,  and  now  believing 
him  really  to  be  a  mad  gamester,  walked  up  to  him, 
and  just  as  his  grace  was  going  to  accost  him,  Rum- 
boid  cried  out  with  great  seeming  joy,  "Six  hundred 
pounds!"  "What!"  said  the  archbishop,  "losing 
again?"  "No,  by  G — !"  replied  Rumbold,  "won 
six  hundred  pounds  !  I  '11  play  this  hand  out,  and 
then  leave  off  while  I  'm  well."  "  And  of  whom  have 
you  won  them  ?"  said  his  grace.  "  Of  the  same  person 
that  I  Left  the  six  hundred  pounds  for  with  you  before 
dinner."  "And  how  will  you  get  your  winnings?" 
"Of  his  ambassador,  to  be  sure,"  said  Rumbold;  so. 
presenting  his  pistol  and  drawn  sword,  he  rode  up  to 
the  carriage,  and  took  from  the  seat  his  own  money, 


THOMAS    RUMBOLD.  119 

and  fourteen  hundred  pounds  besides,  with  which  he 
got  clear  off. 

With  part  of  this  money  Rumbold  bought  himself  an 
eligible  situation  ;  but  still  he  could  not  give  up  his 
propensity  of  appropriating  to  himself  the  purses  of 
others.  For  many  miles  round  London  he  had  the 
waiters  and  chambermaids  of  the  inns  enlisted  into  his 
service ;  and  though,  to  appearance,  in  an  honest  way 
of  gaining  a  livelihood,  he  continued  his  nefarious 
courses  to  a  great  extent.  He  was  not,  indeed,  always 
successful;  but,  having  once  been  apprized  of  two  rich 
travellers  being  at  an  inn  where  one  of  his  assistants 
was,  he  left  London  immediately,  and  waited  on  the 
road  which  he  had  been  informed  the  travellers  were 
to  take:  long,  however,  he  might  have  waited,  for  the 
travellers  were  too  cunning,  and  pretended  to  be  travel- 
ling to  the  place  which  they  had  last  left.  Determined, 
however,  not  to  return  without  doing  some  business, 
he  waited  on  the  road :  the  earl  of  Oxford,  attended  by 
a  single  footman,  soon  appeared,  and,  being  known  to 
his  lordship,  he  disguised  himself  by  throwing  his  long 
hair  over  his  face,  and  holding  it  with  his  teeth.  In 
this  clumsy  mask  he  rode  up,  demanded  his  lordship's 
purse,  and  threatened  to  shoot  both  the  servant  and 
him  if  they  made  the  least  resistance.  Expostula- 
tions were  vain,  and  he  proceeded  to  rifle  the  earl,  in 
whose  coat  and  waistcoat  he  found  nothing  but  dice 
and  cards,  and  was  much  enraged,  till,  feeling  the 
other  pockets,  he  discovered  a  nest  of  goldfinches,* 
with  which  he  was  mightily  pleased,  and  said  he  would 
take  them  home  and  cage  them;  recommending  his 
lordship  to  return  to  his  regiment  and  attend  to  his 
duty,  giving  him  a  shilling  as  an  encouragement. 

As  Rumbold  was  riding  along  the  road,  he  met  a 
country  girl  with  a  milkpail  on  her  head,  with  whose 
beauty  and  symmetry  of  shape  he  was  greatly  taken. 
Having  entered  into  conversation,  Rumbold  alighted, 
and,  excusing  himself  for  the  freedom,  sat  beside  her 
while  she  milked  her  cows.     Pleased  with  each  other's 

#  Guineas. 


120  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

company,  they  made  an  assignation  the  same  evening: 
our  adventurer  was  to  come  to  her  father's  house  at  a 
late  hour,  and,  pretending  to  have  lost  his  road,  solicit 
a  night's  lodging.  The  plan  was  accordingly  followed 
out;  but  they  were  disappointed  in  each  other's  society 
that  evening,  for  some  cue  of  the  family  kept  asiir  all 
night.  Determined,  however,  not  to  leave  his  fair  con- 
vert, he  pretended  in  the  morning  to  be  taken  danger- 
ously ill,  and  the  good  farmer  rode  off  immediately  for 
medical  assistance.  All  the  power  of  surgery,  however, 
could  not  discover  his  ailment.  The  farmer  kindly 
insisted  upon  his  remaining  where  he  was  until  he 
should  recover,  to  which  he,  with  great  professions  of 
gratitude,  assented.  Completely  overpowered  by  such 
generosity,  Rumbold  wished  to  make  some  apparent 
return;  and,  borrowing  a  name,  told  him  he  was  a 
bachelor  of  property  in  a  certain  county ;  that  he  had 
hitherto  remained  secure  against  the  attacks  of  beauty, 
but  that  he  now  was  vanquished  by  the  attractions  of 
his  daughter,  and  hoped,  if  the  girl  had  no  objection, 
that  a  proposal  of  marriage  would  not  be  unacceptable 
to  the  family.  The  farmer,  in  his  turn,  overcome  by 
such  a  mark  of  condescension,  expressed  himself  highly 
gratified  by  the  proposal;  and,  upon  communicating  it 
to  the  family,  all  were  agieeable,  and, none  more  so 
than  the  girl.  The  idea  of  adding  gentility  to  the  for- 
tune which  the  farmer  intended  for  his  daughter,  quite 
elated  him,  and  made  him  extremely  anxious  to  gain 
the  favor  of  the  suitor.  Rumbold  followed  out  the 
design,  and  his  endearments  with  the  daughter  were 
thus  more  frequent  than  he  expected.  His  principal 
design  was  to  sift  the  girl  as  to  the  quantity  of  money 
her  father  had  in  the  house,  and  where  it  lay ;  but  he 
was  chagrined  when  informed  that  there  were  only  a 
few  pounds ;  for  that,  a  few  days  before  they  met,  Uer 
father  had  made  a  great  purchase,  which  took  all  his 
ready  money.  Seeing,  now,  that  there  was  no  chance 
of  gleaning  the  father's  harvest,  he  resolved  to  leave 
the   family,    and,    accordingly,  one  evening  took  his 


THOMAS    RUMBOLD.  121 

march  incognito,  leaving  the  girl  a  piesent  of  twenty 
pieces  of  gold,  inclosed  in  a  copy  of  verses. 

He  proceeded  on  the  road,  and  met  with  no  person 
worthy  his  notice  until  the  following  day,  when  a  sin- 
gular occurrence  happened  to  him.  Passing  by  a  small 
coppice  between  two  hills,  a  gentleman,  as  he  supposed, 
darted  out  upon  him,  and  commanded  him  to  stand 
and  deliver.  Rumbold  requested  him  to  have  patience, 
and  he  would  surrender  all  his  property ;  when,  putting 
his  hand  in  his  pocket,  he  drew  a  pistol,  and  fired  at  his 
opponent  without  the  shot  taking  effect.  "If  you  are 
for  sport,"  cried  the  other,  "  y*  u  shall  have  it !"  and 
instantly  shot  him  slightly  in  the  thigh ;  and  at  the 
same  moment  drawing  his  sword,  he  cut  Rumbold's 
reins  at  one  blow ;  thus  rendering  him  unable  to  ma- 
nage his  horse.  Rumbold  fired  his  remaining  pistol, 
and  again  missed  his  adversary,  but  shot  his  horse 
dead.  Thus  dismounted,  the  gentleman  made  a  thrust 
at  him  with  his  sword,  which,  missing  Rumbold,  pene- 
trated his  horse,  and  brought  them  once  more  upon  an 
equal  footing.  After  hard  fighting  on  both  sides,  our 
adventurer  threw  his  adversary,  bound  him  hand  and 
foot,  and  proceeded  to  his  more  immediate  object  of 
rifling.  Upon  opening  his  coat  he  was  amazed  to  dis- 
cover that  he  had  been  fighting  with  a  woman.  Raising 
her  up  in  his  arms,  he  exclaimed,  "Pardon  me,  most 
courageous  Amazon,  for  thus  rudely  dealing  with  you : 
it  was  nothing  but  ignorance  that  caused  this  error; 
for,  could  my  dim-sighted  soul  have  distinguished 
what  you  were,  the  great  love  and  respect  I  bear  your 
sex  would  have  deterred  me  from  contending  with 
you :  but  I  esteem  this  ignorance  of  mine  as  the  great- 
est happiness,  since  knowledge,  in  this  case,  might 
have  deprived  me  of  the  opportunity  of  knowing  there 
could  be  so  much  valor  in  a  woman.  For  your  sake, 
I  shall  forever  retain  a  very  high  esteem  for  the  worst 
of  females."  The  Amazon  replied,  that  this  was  nei- 
ther a  place  nor  opportunity  for  eloquent  speeches,  but 
that,  if  he  felt  no  reluctance,  she  would  conduct  him  to 
a  more  appropriate  place :  to  which  he  readily  assented. 
K 


122  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBEES. 

They  entered  a  dark  wood,  and,  following  the  winding 
of  several  obscure  passages,  arrived  at  a  house  upon 
which,  apparently,  the  sun  had  not  been  accustomed  to 
shine.  A  number  of  servants  appeared,  and  bustled 
about  their  lady,  whose  disguise  was  familiar  to  them ; 
but  they  were  astonished  to  see  her  return  on  foot,  at- 
tended by  a  stranger. 

Being  conducted  into  an  elegant  apartment,  and  hav- 
ing been  refreshed  by  whatever  the  house  afforded,  they 
became  very  familiar,  and  Rumbold  pressed  his  com- 
panion to  relate  her  history,  which,  with  great  frank- 
ness, she  did  in  the  following  words  : — 

"I  cannot,  sir,  deny  your  request,  since  we  seem  to 
have  formed  a  friendship  which,  I  hope,  will  turn  out 
to  our  mutual  advantage.  I  am  the  daughter  of  a 
sword-cutler:  in  my  youth  my  mother  would  have 
taught  me  to  handle  a  needle,  but  my  martial  spirit 
gainsaid  all  persuasions  to  that  purpose.  I  never  could 
bear  to  be  among  the  utensils  of  the  kitchen,  but  was 
constantly  in  my  father's  shop,  and  took  wonderful 
delight  in  handling  the  warlike  instruments  he  made; 
to  take  a  sharp  and  well-mounted  sword  in  my  hand, 
and  brandish  it,  was  my  chief  recreation.  Being  about 
twelve  years  of  age,  I  studied  by  every  means  possible 
how  I  might  form  an  acquaintance  with  a  fencing- 
master.  Time  brought  my  desires  to  an  accomplish- 
ment; for  such  a  person  came  into  my  father's  shop  to 
have  a  blade  furbished,  and  it  so  happened  that  theie 
was  none  to  answer  him  but  myself.  Having  given 
him  the  satisfaction  he  desired,  though  he  did  not 
expect  it  from  me,  among  other  questions  I  asked  him 
if  he  was  not  a  professor  of  the  noble  science  of  self- 
defence,  which  I  was  pretty  sure  of  from  his  postures, 
looks,  and  expressions.  He  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive, and  I  informed  him  I  was  glad  of  the  opportunity, 
and  begged  him  to  conceal  my  intention,  while  I  re- 
quested he  would  instruct  me  in  the  art  of  fencing. 
At  first,  he  seemed  amazed  at  my  propojal ;  but,  per- 
ceiving I  was  resolved  in  good  earnest,  he  granted  my 
request,  and  appointed  a  time  which  he  could  conve- 


THOMAS    KUMBOLD.  123 

niently  allot  to  that  purpose.  In  a  short  time  I  became 
so  expert  at  back-sword  and  single  rapier,  that  I  no 
longer  required  his  assistance,  and  my  parents  never 
once  discovered  this  transaction. 

"  I  shall  waive  what  exploits  I  did  by  the  help  of  my 
disguise,  and  only  tell  you  that,  when  I  reached  the 
age  of  fifteen,  an  innkeeper  married  me,  and  carried 
me  into  the  country.  For  two  years  we  lived  peacea- 
bly and  comfortably  together;  but  at  length  the  violent 
and  imperious  temper  of  my  husband  called  my  natural 
humor  into  action.  Once  a  week  we  seldom  missed  a 
combat,  which  generally  proved  very  sharp,  especially 
on  the  head  of  the  poor  innkeeper;  the  gaping  wounds 
of  our  discontent  were  not  easily  salved,  and  they  in  a 
manner  became  incurable.  I  was  not  much  inclined 
to  love  him,  because  he  was  a  man  of  a  mean  and 
dastardly  spirit.  Being  likewise  stinted  in  cash,  my 
life  grew  altogether  comfortless,  and  I  looked  on  my 
condition  as  insupportable,  and,  as  a  means  of  miti- 
gating my  troubles,  I  was  compelled  to  adopt  the  re- 
solution of  borrowing  a  purse  occasionally.  I  judged 
this  resolution  safe  enough,  if  I  were  not  detected  in 
the  very  act;  for  who  could  suspect  me  to  be  a  robber, 
wearing  abroad  man's  apparel,  but  at  home  a  dress 
suitable  to  my  sex?  Besides,  no  one  could  procure 
better  information,  or  had  more  frequent  opportunities 
than  myself:  for,  keeping  an  inn,  who  could  ascertain 
what  booty  their  guests  carried  with  them  better  than 
their  landlady  ? 

"  As  you  can  vouch,  sir,  I  knew  myself  not  to  be 
destitute  of  courage ;  what,  then,  could  hinder  me  from 
entering  on  such  enterprises?  Having  thus  resolved,  I 
soon  provided  myself  with  the  necessary  habiliments 
for  my  scheme,  carried  it  into  immediate  execution, 
and  continued  with  great  success,  never  having  failed 
till  now.  Instead  of  riding  to  market,  or  travelling  rive 
or  six  miles  about  some  piece  of  business,  (the  usual 
pretences  with  which  I  blinded  my  husband,)  I  would, 
when  out  of  sight,  take  the  road  to  the  house  in  which 
we  now  are,  where  I  metamorphosed  myself,  and  pro- 


124  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

ceeded  to  the  road  in  search  of  prey.  Not  long  since, 
my  husband  had  one  hundred  pounds  due  to  him  about 
twenty  miles  from  home,  and  appointed  a  certain  day  for 
receiving  it.  Glad  I  was  to  hear  of  this,  and  instantly 
resolved  to  be  revenged  on  him  for  all  the  injuries  and 
churlish  outrages  he  had  committed  against  me ;  I  knew 
very  well  the  way  he  went,  and  understood  the  time  he 
intended  to  return.  I  waylaid  him,  and  had  not  to  wait 
above  three  hours,  when  my  lord  and  master  made  his 
appearance,  whistling  with  joy  at  his  heavy  purse.  I 
soon  made  him  change  the  tune  to  a  more  doleful  ditty 
in  lamentation  of  his  bad  fortune.  I  permitted  him  to 
pass,  but  soon  overtook  him,  and  keeping  close  by  him 
for  a  mile  or  two,  at  length  found  the  coast  clear,  and, 
riding  up  and  seizing  his  bridle,  presented  a  pistol  to 
his  breast,  and  in  a  hoarse  voice  demanded  his  purse, 
else  he  was  a  dead  man.  This  imperious  don,  seeing 
death  before  his  face,  had  nearly  saved  me  the  trouble 
by  dying  without  compulsion;  and  so  terrified  did  he 
appear,  that  he  looked  more  like  an  apparition  than 
any  thing  human.  'Sirrah  !'  said  I,  'be  expeditious;' 
but  a  dead  palsy  had'so  seized  every  part  of  him,  that 
his  eyes  were  incapable  of  directing  his  hands  to  his 
pockets.  I  soon  recalled  his  spirits  by  two  or  three 
sharp  blows  with  the  flat  of  my  sword,  which  speedily 
wakened  him,  and,  with  great  trembling  and  submis- 
sion, he  resigned  his  money.  After  I  had  dismounted 
him,  I  cut  his  horse's  reins  and  saddle-girths,  beat  him 
most  soundly,  and  dismissed  him,  saying  :  '  Now,  you 
rogue,  I  am  even  with  you;  have  a  care,  the  next  time 
you  strike  a  woman,  (your  wife,  I  mean,)  for  none  but 
such  as  dare  not  fight  a  man,  will  lift  up  his  hand 
against  the  weaker  vessel.  Now  you  see  what  it  is  to 
provoke  them,  for,  if  once  irritated,  they  are  restless 
till  they  accomplish  their  revenge  to  their  satisfaction  : 
I  have  a  good  mind  to  end  your  wicked  courses  with 
your  life,  inhuman  varlet,  but  I  am  loth  to  be  hanged 
for  nothing,  I  mean  for  such  a  worthless  fellow  as  you 
are.  Farewell !  this  money  shall  serve  me  to  purchase 
wine  to  drink  a  toast  to  the  confusion  of  all  such  ras- 


THOMAS    RUMBOLD.  125 

cally  and  mean-spirited  things V  I  then  left  him, 
and—" 

This  extraordinary  character  was  about  to  proceed 
with  the  narration  of  her  exploits,  when  the  servant 
announced  the  arrival  of  two  gentlemen.  Our  heroine 
left  the  room,  and  returning  with  her  friends,  apologized 
to  "our  adventurer  for  the  interruption,  but  hoped  he 
would  not  find  the  company  of  her  companions  disa- 
greeable, whom  he  soon  discovered  to  be  likewise 
lemales  in  disguise.  The  conversation  now  became 
general,  and,  upon  condition  of  Rumbold  stopping  all 
night  with  them,  the  Amazon  promised  to  finish  her 
adventures  next  day.  This  accorded  with  the  wishes 
of  Rumbold ;  and  when  they  retired  to  rest,  he  found 
the  same  room  was  destined  for  them  all.  His  curiosity 
was,  however,  overcome  by  his  covetousness ;  for,  ris- 
ing early  next  morning,  and  finding  all  his  companions 
asleep,  he  rifled  their  pockets  of  a  considerable  quantity 
of  gold,  and  decamped  with  great  expedition,  thus  dis- 
appointing the  reader  in  the  continuation  of  a  narrative 
almost  incredible  from  its  singularity. 

Our  adventurer  had  frequently  observed  a  goldsmith 
in  Lombard  street  counting  large  bags  of  gold,  and  he 
became  very  desirous  to  have  a  share  of  the  glittering 
hoard.  He  made  several  unsuccessful  attempts;  but 
having  in  his  possession  many  rings,  which  he  had 
procured  in  the  way  of  his  profession,  he  dressed  him- 
self in  the  habit  of  a  countryman,  attended  by  a  ser- 
vant, and  going  to  the  goldsmith's  shop,  proposed  to 
sell  one  of  these  rings.  The  goldsmith,  perceiving  it  to 
be  a  diamond  of  considerable  value,  and  from  the  ap- 
pearance of  Rumbold  supposing  he  was  ignorant  of  its 
real  worth,  after  examining  it,  with  some  hesitation 
estimated  its  value  at  ten  pounds.  To  convince  the 
countryman  that,  this  was  its  full  value,  he  showed  him 
a  diamond  ring  very  superior  in  quality,  which  he 
would  sell  him  for  twenty  pounds.  Rumbold  took  the 
goldsmith's  ring  to  compare  with  his  own,  and,  fully 
acquainted  with  its  value,  informed  him  that  he  had 
come  to  sell,  but  that  it  was  a  matter  of  small  impor- 


126  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

tance  to  him  whether  he  purchased  or  sold.  He  ac- 
cordingly pulled  out  a  purse  of  gold,  and  laid  dowr> 
the  twenty  pounds  for  the  ring.  The  goldsmith  storm- 
ed and  raged,  crying  that  he  had  cheated  him,  and 
insisted  on  having  hack  his  ring.  Rumbold,  however, 
kept  hold  of  his  bargain,  and  replied,  that  the  other 
had  offered  him  the  ring  for  twenty  pounds ;  that  he 
had  a  witness  to  his  bargain ;  there  was  his  money, 
and  he  hoped  that  he  would  give  him  a  proper  exchange 
for  his  gold. 

The  goldsmith's  indignation  increasing  at  the  pros- 
pect of  parting  with  his  ring,  he  carried  the  matter 
before  a  justice.  Being  plaintiff,  he  began  his  tale  by 
informing  the  magistrate,  that  "  the  countryman  had 
taken  a  diamond  ring  from  him  worth  a  hundred 
pounds,  and  would  give  him  but  twenty  pounds  for  it." 
"Have  a  care,"  replied  Rumbold,  "for  if  you  charge 
me  with  taking  a  ring  from  you,  which  is,  in  other 
words,  stealing,  I  shall  vex  you  more  than  I  have  yet 
done."  He  then  told  the  magistrate  the  whole  story, 
and  produced  his  servant  as  a  witness  to  the  bargain. 
The  goldsmith  now  became  infuriated,  exclaiming,  that 
"he  believed  the  country  gentleman  and  his  servant 
were  both  impostors  and  cheats !"  Rumbold  replied, 
that  "  he  would  do  well  to  take  care  not  to  make  his 
cause  worse ;  that  he  was  a  gentleman  of  three  hundred 
pounds  per  annum;  and  that,  being  desirous  to  sell  a 
ring  at  its  just  price  to  the  goldsmith,  the  latter  en- 
deavored to  cheat  him,  by  estimating  it  far  below  its 
value."  The  magistrate,  accordingly,  decided  in  favor 
of  our  adventurer,  only  appointing  him  to  pay  the 
twenty  pounds  in  gold,  without  any  change. 

The  gold  of  Lombard  street  still  continuing  to  attract 
the  attention  of  Rumbold,  he  with  longing  eyes  one  day 
traversed  that  street,  attended  by  a  boy  whom  he  had 
trained  in  his  service.  The  boy  ran  into  a  shop  where 
they  were  counting  a  bag  of  gold,  seized  a  handful, 
then  let  it  all  fall  upon  the  counter,  and  ran  off.  The 
servants  pursued,  seized  the  boy,  and  charged  him  with 
having  some  of  the  money.     Rumbold  approached  to 


THOMAS    RUMBOLD.  127 

the  assistance  of  the  boy,  insisting  that  the  youth  had 
not  stolen  a  farthing  of  their  money,  and  that  the  gold- 
smith should  suffer  for  his  audacity.  The  goldsmith 
and  Rumhold  came  to  high  words,  and  mutual  volleys 
of  imprecations  were  exchanged.  The  latter  then 
inquired  what  sum  he  charged  the  boy  with  having 
stolen.  The  goldsmith  replied,  that  he  did  not  know, 
but  that  the  bag  originally  contained  a  hundred  pounds. 

Upon  this,  Rumbold  insisted  that  he  would  wa.'t 
until  he  saw  the  money  counted.  He  tarried  about 
half  an  hour,  and  the  money  was  found  complete. 
The  goldsmith  made  an  apology  to  Rumbold  for  the 
mistake ;  but  the  latter  replied,  that,  as  a  gentleman, 
no  one  should  put  upon  him  such  an  affront  with  im- 
punity. After  some  strong  expressions  on  both  sides, 
Rumbold  took  his  leave,  assuring  his  antagonist  that 
he  should  hear  from  him.  The  goldsmith  was  arrested 
the  day  following,  in  an  action  of  defamation.  The 
bailiff  who  arrested  him,  being  bribed  by  our  adven- 
turer, advised  him  to  compromise  the  matter;  urging, 
that  the  gentleman  he  had  injured  was  a  person  of 
quality,  and  if  he  persisted  in  the  action,  it  would  ex- 
pose him  to  severe  damages.  With  some  difficulty  the 
matter  was  settled,  by  the  goldsmith  giving  Rumbold 
twenty  pounds  in  damages. 

A  jeweller  in  Foster  lane  next  supplied  the  extrava- 
gances of  Rumbold.  He  had  often  disposed  of  articles 
for  that  jeweller,  who  had  full  confidence  in  Rumbold's 
fidelity.  One  day,  having  observed  in  his  shop  a  very 
rich  jewel,  he  acquainted  the  jeweller  that  he  could  sell 
it  for  him.  Happy  at  such  information,  he  delivered 
it  to  Rumbold,  who  carried  it  to  another  jeweller  to 
have  a  false  one,  exactly  similar,  prepared.  He  then 
embraced  an  opportunity  to  leave  the  counterfeit  jewel 
with  the  jeweller's  wife,  in  his  absence.  Shortly  after- 
wards, he  met  the  jeweller  in  the  street,  who  said  he 
never  expected  to  have  been  so  used  by  him,  and 
threatened  to  bring  the  matter  under  the  cognizance  of 
a  judge ;  but  Rumbold  retreated  to  a  remote  part  of  the 
city. 


128  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

Rumbold  was  one  day  travelling  in  the  vicinity  of 
Hackney,  when  his  attention  was  directed  towards  a 
house,  which  he  earnestly  desired  to  possess.  He  ap- 
proached the  house,  knocked  at  the  door,  and  inquired 
if  the  landlord  was  at  home.  He  soon  appeared ;  when 
Rumbold  politely  informed  him,  that,  having  been 
highly  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  his  house,  he 
was  resolved  to  have  one  built  after  the  same  model, 
and  requested  the  favor  of  being  permitted  to  send  a 
tradesman  to  take  its  exact  dimensions.  This  favor 
was  readily  granted ;  when  our  adventurer  went  to  a 
carpenter,  and  informed  him  that  he  wished  him  to  go 
along  with  him  to  Hackney  to  measure  a  house,  in  order 
that  he  might  have  one  built  on  a  similar  construction. 
They  accordingly  went,  and  found  the  gentleman  at 
home,  who  kindly  entertained  Rumbold,  while  the  car- 
penter took  the  dimensions  of  every  part  of  the  house. 

The  carpenter,  being  amply  rewarded,  was  dismiss- 
ed, and,  by  the  aid  of  the  draught  of  the  house  taken 
by  him,  Rumbold  drew  up  a  lease,  with  a  very  great 
penalty  in  case  of  failure  to  fulfil  the  agreement.  Be- 
ing provided  with  witnesses  to  the  deed,  he  went  and 
demanded  possession.  The  gentleman  was  surprised, 
and  only  smiled  at  the  absurdity  of  the  demand. 
Rumbold  commenced  a  lawsuit  for  possession  of  the 
house,  and  his  witnesses  swore  to  the  validity  of  the 
deed.  The  carpenter's  evidence  was  also  produced, 
many  other  circumstances  were  mentioned  to  corro- 
borate the  fact,  and  a  verdict  was  obtained  in  favor 
of  Rumbold' s  claim.  But  the  gentleman  deemed  it 
proper  to  pay  the  penalty  rather  than  to  lose  his  house. 

Rumbold,  disguised  in  the  apparel  of  a  person  of 
quality,  one  day  waited  on  a  scrivener,  and  acquainted 
him  that  he  had  immediate  occasion  for  a  hundred 
pounds,  which  he  hoped  he  would  be  able  to  raise  for 
him  upon  good  security.  The  scrivener  inquired  who 
were  the  securities,  and  Rumbold  named  two  respecta- 
ble citizens,  whom  he  knew  to  be  at  that  time  in  the 
country;  which  satisfying  the  money-lender,  he  de- 
sired our  adventurer  to  call  next  day.     In  the  mean 


THOMAS    RUMBOLD.  129 

time,  the  lender  made  inquiry  after  the  stability  of  the 
securities,  and  found  he  had  not  been  imposed  upon  as 
to  their  respectability.  Our  adventurer  again  waited 
upon  the  scrivener,  who  having  agreed  to  advance  the 
sum,  Rumbold  sent  for  two  of  his  accomplices,  who 
personated  his  securities,  and,  after  a  little  preliminary 
caution,  signed  the  bond  for  him  under  their  assumed 
names;  and,  upon  Rumbold's  receiving  the  money, 
they  immediately  took  their  leave.  The  name  which 
Rumbold  assumed  on  this  occasion  was  of  further  ser- 
vice to  him ;  for  it  happened  to  be  that  of  a  gentleman 
in  Surrey,  whom  he  met  with,  after  this  adventurs,  at 
an  inn.  Having  learned  what  time  the  gentleman  in- 
tended to  remain  in  town,  and  the  name  and  situation 
of  his  estate,  he  determined  to  render  his  chance  meet- 
ing of  service  to  him.  He  accordingly  again  waited  on 
the  same  scrivener,  and  informed  him  he  had  occasion 
for  another  hundred,  but  did  not  wish  to  trouble  any 
of  his  friends  to  become  security  for  such  a  trifle ;  for 
that,  as  he  possessed  a  good  estate,  it  might  be  ad- 
vanced upon  his  own  bond ;  and  that  if  the  scrivener 
could  spare  a  servant  to  ride  the  length  of  Surrey,  he 
would  then  learn  the  extent  of  his  estate,  and  be  ena- 
bled to  remove  any  scruple  whatever.  A  servant  was 
accordingly  sent,  and  directed  to  go  and  make  inquiry 
after  the  property  of  the  stranger  whom  Rumbold  had 
met  at  the  inn.  Returning  in  a  few  days,  Rumbold 
found  the  scrivener  very  condescending,  and  prodigal 
of  congratulations  upon  the  possession  of  so  pleasant 
and  valuable  a  property,  and  said  he  would  not  have 
scrupled  though  the  loan  had  been  for  a  thousand. 
Rumbold,  finding  him  thus  inclined,  doubled  the  sum, 
and,  after  giving  his  own  bond  for  two  hundred 
pounds,  left  the  scrivener  to  seek  redress  as  he  best 
could. 

Rumbold  thus  supported  himself  by  exercising  his 
ingenuity  at  the  expense  of  others,  and  by  this  means 
amassed  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  He  was  not 
so  addicted  to  these  bad  habits  but  that  he  felt  an 
inclination  to  retire  from  s»enes  so  fraught  with  danger 

6 


130  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

I 

and  infamy.  For  this  purpose  he  placed  his  money. in 
the  hands  of  a  private  banker,  with  a  design  of  living 
frugally  and  comfortably  upon  the  interest.  This 
banker  unfortunately  failed,  and  made  off  with  all 
Rumbold's  property;  so  that  he  was  once  more  re- 
duced to  the  necessity  of  having  recourse  to  his  old 
employment. 

The  first  exploit  recorded  of  Rumbold  after  his  re~ 
appearance  in  public,  is  the  following: — He  stopped  at 
a  tavern,  where  he  called  for  a  flagon  of  beer,  which 
was  handed  him  in  a  silver  cup,  as  was  customary  at 
that  time.  Being  in  a  private  room  and  alone,  he 
called  to. the  landlord  to  partake  of  his  noggin,  and 
they  continued  together  for  some  time,  until  the  land- 
lord had  occasion  to  leave  him.  Soon  after,  he  went 
to  the  bar  and  paid  for  his  beer,  while  the  waiter  at  the 
same  time  went  for  the  cup :  missing  which,  he  called 
Rumbold  back  and  asked  him  for  the  cup.  "Cup!" 
said  Rumbold,  "I  left  it  in  the  room."  A  careful 
search  was  made,  but  to  no  effect;  the  cup  could  not 
be  found,  and  the  landlord  openly  accused  Rumbold  of 
the  theft.  He  willingly  permitted  his  person  to  be 
searched,  which  proved  equally  unsuccessful ;  but  the 
landlord  still  persisted  in  maintaining  that  Rumbold 
must  have  it,  or,  at  all  events,  that  he  was  chargeable 
with  the  loss,  and  would  have  the  matter  investigated 
by  a  justice,  before  whom  they  immediately  went. 
The  landlord  stated  the  case,  while  Rumbold  com- 
plained loudly  of  the  injury  done  him  by  the  suspi- 
cion ;  and  from  his  never  endeavoring  to  run  off  when 
he  was  called  back,  and  submitting  so  readily  to  be 
searched,  the  justice  dismissed  him,  and  fined  the  land- 
lord for  his  rashness. 

During  t^ieir  visit  to  the  justice,  some  of  Rumbold's 
associates  entered  the  same  inn,  where,  according  to 
arrangement,  they  found  the  cup  fixed  under  the  table 
with  soft  wax,  and  made  off  with  it  without  the  least 
suspicion. 

The  last  recorded  adventure  of  Rumbold  was  one 
which  is  now  very  common  in  the  metropolis.    Having 


THOMAS    RUMBOLD.  131 

observed  a  countryman  pretty  flush  of  money,  he  and 
his  accomplices  followed  him;  but,  from  Hodge's  at- 
tention to  his  pocket,  they  failed  in  several  attempts  to 
pick  it.  Our  practitioners,  however,  taking  a  conve- 
nient opportunity  and  place,  one  of  them  went  before  and 
dropped  a  letter,  while  another  kept  close  by  the  coun- 
tryman, and  upon  seeing  it  cried  out,  "See,  what  is 
here?"  But,  although  the  countryman  stooped  to  take 
it  up,  our  adventurer  was  too  nimble  for  him ;  and 
having  it  in  his  hand,  observed,  "  Here  is  somewhat 
else  besides  a  letter."  "1  cry  halves,"  said  the  coun- 
tryman. "Well,"  said  Rumbold,  "you  stooped,  in- 
deed, as  well  as  I ;  but  I  have  it.  However,  I  will  be 
fair  with  you ;  let  us  see  what  it  is,  and  whether  it  is 
worth  dividing;"  and  thereupon  broke  open  the  letter, 
in  which  was  enclosed  a  chain  or  necklace  of  gold. 
"  Good  fortune,"  said  Rumbold,  "if  this  be  real  gold." 
"  How  shall  we  know  that?"  replied  the  countryman  ; 
"  let  us  see  what  the  letter  says ;"  which  ran  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  Brother  John, 
"  I  have  here  sent  you  back  this  necklace  of  gold  you 
have  sent  me,  not  from  any  dislike  I  have  to  it,  but  my 
wife  is  covetous,  and  would  have  a  bigger.  This 
comes  not  to  above  seven  pounds,  and  she  would  have 
one  of  ten  pounds ;  therefore,  pray  get  it  changed  for 
one  of  that  price,  and  send  it  by  the  bearer  to  your 
loving  brother,  Jacob  Thornton." 

"  Nay,  then  we  have  good  luck,"  observed  the  cheat. 
"But  I  hope,"  said  he  to  the  countryman,  "you  will 
not  expect  a  full  share,  for,  you  know,  I  found  it :  and, 
besides,  if  one  should  divide  it,  I  know  not  how  to 
break  it  in  pieces  without  injuring  it ;  therefore,  I  had 
*  rather  have  my  share  in  money."  "  Well,"  said  the 
countryman,  "  I  will  give  you  your  share  in  money, 
provided  we  divide  equally."  "  That  you  shall,"  said 
Rumbold,  "  and  therefore  I  must  have  three  pounds 
ten  shillings,  the  price  in  all  being,  as  you  see,  seven 


132  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBEKS. 

pounds."  "  Ay,"  said  the  countryman,  thinking  to  be 
cunning  with  our  adventurer,  "  it  may  be  worth  seven 
pounds  in  money,  fashion  and  all :  we  must,  however, 
not  value  that,  but  only  the  gold ;  therefore  I  think 
three  pounds  in  money  are  better  than  half  the  chain, 
and  so  much  I  '11  give,  if  you  '11  let  me  have  it." 
"  Well,  I'm  contented,"  said  Rumbold :  "but  then 
you  shall  give  me  a  pint  of  wine,  over  and  above."  To 
this  the  other  agreed,  and  to  a  tavern  they  went,  where 
the  bargain  was  ratified.  There  Rumbold  and  the 
countryman  quickly  disposed  of  two  bottles  of  wine. 
In  the  mean  time  one  of  Rumbold' s  companions  entered 
the  inn,  inquiring  for  a  certain  person  who  was  not 
there.  Rumbold  informed  the  stranger  (as  he  pre- 
tended to  be)  that  he  would  be  there  presently,  as  he 
had  seen  him  in  the  street,  and  requested  him  to  come 
in  and  wait  for  him.  Upon  this  the  stranger  sat  down 
to  wait  the  arrival  of  his  friend.  In  a  little  time  Rum- 
bold proposed  to  remove  into  a  larger  apartment,  where 
they  commenced  playing  at  cards,  to  amuse  themselves 
until  the  gentleman  expected  should  arrive. 

Rumbold  and  his  associate  began  their  amusement, 
the  countryman  being  a  stranger  to  the  game.  After 
he  had  continued  a  spectator  of  the  good  fortune  of  our 
adventurer,  who  in  general  vanquished  the  stranger, 
the  countryman  was  at  length  prevailed  upon  to  run 
halves  with  the  fortunate  gamester.  For  a  while  the 
same  good  fortune  smiled  upon  them,  and  the  stranger, 
in  a  rage  at  his  great  losses,  refused  to  proceed.  But 
after  a  few  bottles  more  were  emptied,  the  long-expect- 
ed gentleman  never  appearing,  they  renewed  their 
amusement;  and  fortune  deserting  Rumbold  and  the 
countryman  who  seconded  him,  in  a  short  time  the 
latter  found  himself  without  a  shilling. 

The  landlord  was  then  called  to  assist  in  drinking 
the  money  gained,  and,  being  informed  how  they  had 
cheated  the  countryman,  was  resolved  to  exert  his 
ingenuity  at  their  expense.  Meanwhile,  several  asso- 
ciates of  Rumbold,  who  had  been  respectively  employed 
in  similar  adventures,  entered  the  room,  joined  in  their 


THOMAS    RUMBOLD.  133 

conversation,  and  participated  in  their  wine.  The 
landlord  was  at  last  requested  to  bring  supper,  which 
was  done  with  great  alacrity.  The  bottle  continuing 
to  move  with  considerable  rapidity,  the  company  were 
in  general  intoxicated  before  they  sat  down  to  supper. 
When  it  was  brought  in,  however,  they  commenced 
with  great  avidity,  and  soon  despatched  a  shoulder  of 
mutton  and  two  capons ;  and,  under  the  influence  of 
wine,  all  fell  asleep  with  the  dishes  before  them. 

The  landlord  embraced  this  favorable  moment  of 
silence  to  collect  all  the  bones  and  remnants  of  the 
whole  day's  provisions,  and  divided  them  upon  the 
plates  which  were  upon  the  table.  In  a  short  time, 
one  of  them  losing  his  balance,  embraced  the  floor, 
and,  by  the  noise  of  the  fall,  awoke  the  rest  of  the 
drowsy  company,  who  all  renewed  their  attacks  upon 
the  victuals.  "How  came  these  bones  here?"  cried 
one  of  them ;  "  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ate  any  such 
victuals."  "  Nor  I,"  said  another  ;  upon  which  the 
landlord  was  called  and  interrogated.  "  Why,  surely, 
gentlemen,  you  have  forgot  yourselves,"  said  he ;  u  you 
have  slept  sound  and  fair  indeed  !  I  believe  you  will 
forget  the  collar  of  brawn  you  had  too,  that  cost  me  six 
shillings  out  of  my  pocket."  "  How,  brawn  !"  said 
one.  "Ay,  brawn,"  answered  the  landlord;  "you 
had  it,  and  shall  pay  for  it :  you  '11  remember  nothing 
presently.  This  is  a  fine  drunken  bout,  indeed !" 
"  So  it  is,"  said  one  of  the  company ;  "  surely,  we  have 
been  in  a  dream :  but  it  signifies  nothing,  my  landlord, 
you  must  and  shall  be  paid.  Give  us  another  dozen 
Dottles,  and  bring  us  the  bill,  that  we  may  pay  the 
reckoning  we  have  run  up."  This  order  was  obeyed, 
and  a  bill  presented,  amounting  to  seven  pounds,  and 
every  man  was  called  upon  to  pay  his  share.  The 
countryman  shrunk  back,  wishing  to  escape;  but  one 
of  them  pulled  him  forward,  saying,  "  Come,  let  us 
tell  noses,  and  every  man  pay  alike."  The  country- 
man desired  to  be  excused,  and  said  his  money  was  all 
exhausted ;  they  therefore  agreed  that  he  should  be 
exempted. 

L 


134  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

In  the  morning,  the  countryman,  in  order  to  procure 
money  to  carry  him  home,  resolved  to  sell  the  chain  in 
his  possession  :  he  accordingly  went  to  a  goldsmith, 
hut,  to  his  additional  mortification,  was  informed  that 
instead  of  gold,  it  was  nothing  but  brass  gilded  over. 
He  acquainted  the  goldsmith  with  the  whole  matter, 
who  went  along  with  him  to  a  justice  to  obtain  a  war- 
rant for  the  apprehension  of  Rumbold  and  his  associ- 
ates ;  but  before  their  arrival,  the  worthy  knights  of  the 
pistol  had  prudently  decamped  with  their  spoils. 

Rumbold  after  this  adventure  had  several  narrow 
escapes ;  but,  continuing  his  nefarious  courses,  he  was 
at  length  detected,  tried,  condemned,  and  executed  at 
Tyburn  in  the  year  1689. 


WHITNEY. 


This  notorious  malefactor  was  born  at  Stevenage 
in  Hertfordshire,  and  served  an  apprenticeship  to  a 
butcher.  He  often  mentioned  that  he  was  happily 
disappointed  in  his  first  attempt  to  steal. 

He  and  his  master  went  to  Romford  to  purchase 
calves,  and  there  was  an  excellent  one  that  they  would 
fain  have  had  in  their  possession,  but  the  owner  and 
they  could  not  agree  about  the  price.  As  the  owner  of 
the  calf  kept  an  alehouse,  they  went  in  to  taste  his  ale. 
While  they  were  enjoying  themselves,  but  lamenting 
the  loss  of  the  calf,  Whitney  whispered  to  his  master, 
that  it  would  be  foolish  in  them  to  give  money  for  the 
calf,  when  they  might  have  it  for  nothing.  The  good 
butcher  understood  his  meaning  and  entered  into  his 
plan.  In  the  mean  while  they  sat  still  drinking,  wait- 
ing their  opportunity. 

Unfortunately  for  their  scheme,  a  fellow  who  tra- 
velled the  country  with  a  she-bear,  had  put  up  at  the 
'louse  where  the  butchers  were  drinking.     The  land- 


Whitney  and  &*,  Bear.        P.  134. 


WHITNEY.  137 

lord  had  no  place  to  put  up  this  bear  without  removing 
the  calf  to  another  house,  which  was  accordingly  done. 
The  butchers  continued  carousing  until  it  was  dark, 
then  having  cheerfully  paid  their  reckoning,  in  the 
hope  that  the  calf  would  reimburse  them,  they  left  the 
house,  and  lurked  about  the  fields  until  all  was  quiet. 
Approaching  the  place  where  they  had  seen  the  calf 
put  up,  Whitney  was  sent  in  to  fetch  it  out.  The  bear 
was  resting  her  wearied  limbs  when  Whitney  took  hold 
of  them,  and  was  astonished  to  find  the  hair  of  the 
calf  had  suddenly  grown  to  such  a  length.  Bruin 
arose  upon  all-fours,  opining,  we  suppose,  that  it  was 
her  master  about  to  show  her  in  his  usua1  manner. 
But  she  no  sooner  discovered  that  it  was  a  stranger 
who  thus  rudely  assailed  her,  than  she  seized  him  .with 
her  two  fore-paws  and  hugged  him  most  lovingly  to 
her  bosom.  The  master,  surprised  that  he  was  so  long 
in  bringing  out  the  calf,  began  to  chide  him  for  his 
delay.  Whitney  cried  out,  that  he  could  not  get  away 
himself,  and  he  believed  that  the  devil  had  hold  of  him. 
"If  it  is  the  old  boy,"  replied  the  master,  "  bring  him 
out,  as  I  should  like  to  see  what  kind  of  an  animal  he 
is."  His  importunities  at  length  brought  the  butcher 
to  his  assistance,  when  they  discovered  their  mistake, 
and  with  no  small  difficulty  disentangled  Whitney 
from  the  fraternal  hug  of  honest  bruin ;  which  having 
done,  they  proceeded  home  without  their  prey,  deter- 
mined to  attempt  stealing  calves  no  more. 

Our  young  adventurer  now  abandoned  the  business 
of  buying  and  slaying  animals,  and  took  the  George 
inn  at  Cheshunt.  In  order  to  make  the  most  of  it,  he 
entertained  all  sorts-  of  people,  whether  good  or  bad. 
Disappointment  attended  him  in  this  as  well  as  his 
former  employment,  and  he  was  constrained  to  shut  up 
his  doors. 

He  now  went  up  to  London,  the  common  haunt  of 
all  profligates,  where  he  lived  in  the  most  irregular 
manner,  giving  himself  wholly  up  to  villany.  After 
practising  the  tricks  of  sharpers  for  a  time,  he  at  length 
commenced  business  upon  the  highway.     He  was  one 


138  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

day  standing  at  the  door  of  a  mercer's  shop,  when  two 
young  ladies,  apparently  of  fashion,  passed  by,  ele- 
gantly dressed,  one  of  whom  inquired  if  he  had  any 
silks  of  the  newest  patterns.  Whitney  replied,  that  he 
had  none  at  present,  but  should  soon  have  some  home 
from  the  weaver.  He  then  requested  their  address, 
that  the  goods,  when  they  came  to  hand,  might  be  sent 
to  them.  They  were  rather  at  a  loss ;  one  of  them, 
however,  answered,  that  they  were  only  lately  come  to 
town,  and  did  not  remember  the  name  of  their  street. 
They  added,  that,  as  it  was  not  far  off,  if  he  would 
accompany  them,  they  would  show  him  their  habita- 
tion. 

This  was  just  what  he  wanted  ;  therefore,  going 
into  the  shop,  as  if  to  leave  orders,  he  hastened 
along  with  the  ladies — they  supposing  he  was  the  silk- 
mercer,  and  he  that  they  were  actually  ladies  of  for- 
tune, whom  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  robbing, 
either  presently  or  at  some  future  period.  Upon  their 
arrival  he  was  introduced  into  an  elegant  parlor,  and  a 
collation  placed  upon  the  table,  with  some  excellent 
wine,  of  which  he  was  requested  to  partake.  He  was 
soon  left  alone  with  one  of  the  ladies,  and  discovering 
his  mistake,  was  resolved  to  have  some  more  sport  at 
the  expense  of  a  silk -mercer,  since  he  had  been  taken 
for  one. 

Whitney  went  to  a  mercer,  and  mentioning  the  name 
of  a  lady  of  quality  in  the  neighborhood,  said  he  had 
been  sent  by  her  to  request  that  the  mercer  would  send 
one  of  his  men  with  several  pieces  of  his  best  silks,  as 
the  lady  was  to  purchase  a  gown  and  petticoat.  The 
shopkeeper  readily  consented,  and  one  of  the  appren- 
tices was  despatched  along  with  him.  To  deceive  the 
young  man,  and  render  it  impossible  for  him  to  disco- 
ver the  place  where  he  should  stop,  he  conducted  him 
through  various  streets  and  lanes,  until  he  at  last  halted 
at  a  house  which  had  an  entry  into  another  street ;  here 
he  took  the  parcel,  and  desired  the  lad  to  stand  at  the 
door  while  he  went  in  to  show  the  ladies  the  silks. 
Taking  the  parcel,  he  went  in,  and  inquired  for  some 


WHITNEY.  139 

person  who  he  was  certain  was  not  there.  He  then 
requested  liberty  to  pass  through  to  the  next  street, 
which  would  shorten  his  way.  This  being  granted, 
he  left  the  mercer's  man  to  wait  for  his  return. 

Having  thus  fortunately  succeeded,  and  been  able  to 
fulfil  his  promise  of  giving  one  of  the  above-mentioned 
ladies  a  silk  dress,  he  hastened  to  their  dwelling,  where 
they  divided  the  spoil.  For  some  days  he  remained 
there,  indulging  in  all  manner  of  riot  and  excess,  until, 
satiated,  he  returned  to  his  labor  of  seeking  new  adven- 
tures. Determined,  however,  that  no  other  person  but 
himself  should  reap  the  fruits  of  his  ingenuity,  he  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  mercer,  informing  him  where  he  would 
find  his  silks.  Accordingly,  having  obtained  a  war- 
rant, the  house  of  the  two  damsels  was  searched,  the 
pieces  found,  and  both  the  ladies  were  sentenced  to 
Bridewell  to  undergo  whipping,  and  to  submit  to  hard 
labor. 

When  Whitney  was  confirmed  in  his  business,  he 
met  a  gentleman  on  Bagshot  heath,  whom  he  com- 
manded to  stand  and  deliver :  on  which  the  other  re- 
marked, "  It  is  well  you  spoke  first,  sir,  for  I  was  just 
going  to  make  a  similar  demand."  "  Why,  then,  you 
are  a  gentleman-thief?"  Whitney  cried.  "  Yes,"  said 
the  stranger,  "  but  I  have  had  very  bad  success  to-day, 
for  I  have  been  riding  up  and  down  all  this  morning 
without  meeting  with  any  prize."  Whitney  upon  thia 
wished  him  better  luck,  and  took  his  leave. 

At  night  Whitney  and  the  above  gentleman  put  up  at 
the  same  inn,  when  the  latter  related  to  some  other 
travellers  by  what  stratagem  he  had  evaded  being 
robbed  on  the  road.  Whitney  having  changed  his 
dress,  the  gentleman  did  not  recognise  him.  Whitney 
also  heard  him  whisper  to  one  of  the  company,  that  by 
this  contrivance  he  had  saved  a  hundred  pounds.  That 
person  informed  him,  that  he  had  a  considerable  sum 
upon  him,  and  that,  if  agreeable,  he  would  travel  next 
day  with  him.  Our  adventurer  overheard  the  conver- 
sation, and  resolved,  without  being  solicited,  to  make 
one  of  the  party.     In  the  morning  they  commenced 


140  LIVES    OF    HIGHWAYMEN    AND    ROBBERS. 

their  journey,  and  Whitney  followed  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  after.  Their  conversation  turned  upon  the 
best  means  to  deceive  the  highwaymen  ;  and  our  ad- 
venturer's meditations  were,  how  he  should  be  revenged 
upon  his  quondam  friend  for  the  cheat  he  had  received 
the  day  before. 

Whitney  soon  overtook  them,  and  riding  before, 
turned  suddenly  about,  presented  his  pistols,  and  com- 
manded them  to  stand,  and  deliver.  "  We  were  going 
to  say  the  same  to  you,  sir  !"  "  Were  you  so?"  replied 
our  hero,  "  and  are  you  then  of  my  profession?" 
"Yes,"  said  they  both.  "If  you  are,  I  suppose  you 
remember  the  old  proverb,  that  two  of  a  profession 
cannot  agree  together,  so  that  you  must  not  expect  any 
favor  on  that  score.  But  to  be  plain  with  you,  gentle- 
men, I  know  you  very  well,  and  must  have  your  hun- 
dred pounds,  sir, — and  your  considerable  sum,  sir," — 
turning  first  to  the  one,  and  then  to  the  other, — "  other- 
wise I  shall  be  bold  to  send  a  brace  of  bullets  through 
each  of  your  heads.  You,  Messieurs  Highwaymen, 
should  have  kept  your  secret  a  little  longer,  and  not 
have  boasted  so  soon  of  having  outwitted  a  thief. 
There  is  now  nothing  for  you  but  to  deliver  or  die  !" 
These  words  put  them  in  a  sad  consternation  :  they 
were  very  unwilling  to  lose  their  money,  but  more 
unwilling  to  lose  their  lives;  of  two  evils,  therefore, 
they  preferred  choosing  the  least.  The  one  produced 
his  hundred  pounds  first,  and  the  other  gentleman  his 
considerable  sum,  which  was  a  good  deal  more. 

At  another  time,  our  adventurer  met  with  an  old 
miser  named  Hull,  on  Hounslow  Heath.  The  word  of 
command  being  given,  he  trembled  in  every  joint,  and 
using  the  most  piteous  tones  and  humiliating  com- 
plaints, said  that  he  was  a  very  poor  man  and  had  a 
large  family,  and  he  would  be  hard-hearted  indeed  who 
would  take  his  money.  He  added,  besides,  a  great 
deal  more  concerning  the  illegality  of  such  an  action, 
and  how  dangerous  it  was  to  engage  in  evil  courses. 
Whitney,  who  knew  him  well,  cried  out  in  a  violent 
passion,  "  Sirrah,  you  pretend  to  preach  morality  to  an 


WHITNEY.  141 

honester  man  than  yourself.  Is  it  not  more  generous 
to  take  a  man's  money  from  him  bravely,  than  to  grind 
him  to  death  by  exacting  eight  or  ten  per  cent,  under 
cover  of  serving  him  1  You  make  a  prey  of  all  man- 
kind, and  necessity  in  an  honest  man  is  often  the  means 
of  his  falling  into  your  hands,  who  are  sure  to  be  the 
means  of  undoing  him.  I  am  a  man  of  more  honor 
than  to  show  any  compassion  to  one  whom  I  esteem  an 
enemy  to  the  whole  species.  For  once,  at  least,  I  shall 
oblige  you  to  lend  me  what  you  have,  without  interest 
or  bond,  so  make  no  words !"  Old  Hull,  upon  this, 
reluctantly  pulled  out  eighteen  pounds,  telling  him  at 
the  same  time  that  he  would  see  him  some  time  ride  up 
Holborn  hill  backwards.  Whitney  was  retiring  until 
he  heard  these  words,  when,  returning,  he  drew  Hull 
off  his  horse,  and  putting  him  on  again  with  his  face 
towards  the  tail,  and  tying  his  legs,  "Now,"  said  he, 
"  you  old  rogue,  let  me  see  what  a  figure  a  man  makes 
when  he  rides  backwards,  and  let  me  have  the  plea- 
sure at  least  of  seeing  you  first  in  that  posture :"  so 
giving  the  horse  a  whip,  the  animal  proceeded  at  a 
desperate  pace  until  it  came  to  Hounslow  Town,  where 
the  people  untied  him,  after  they  had  enjoyed  them- 
selves at  his  expense. 

In  the  course  of  Whitney's  rambles,  he  one  day  put 
up  at  an  inn  in  Doncaster,  and  lived  in  a  dashing  style, 
as  he  had  then  plenty  of  money.  He  was  informed 
that  the  landlord  was  a  complete  miser  and  sharper, 
and  that  he  would  not  spare  the  smallest  sum  to  a  p>oor 
relation  of  his,  who  lived  in  the  neighborhood.  Ac- 
cordingly, Whitney  resolved  to  exert  his  ingenuity 
upon  his  landlord;  and  gave  out  that  he  had  a  good 
estate,  and  travelled  merely  for  his  own  amusement. 
He  continued  to  pay  his  bills  regularly,  until  he  sup- 
posed that  his  credit  would  be  sufficiently  established. 
Then  he  one  day  mentioned  to  his  landlord,  that  as  his 
money  was  run  short,  he  would  be  obliged  to  him  for 
credit  until  he  received  remittances.  "  Oh,  dear  sir, 
you  need  not  give  yourself  any  uneasiness  about' such 
a  thing  as  this ;  every  thing  in  my  house  is  at  yom 


142  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

service ;  and  I  shall  think  myself  honored  if  you  use 
me  as  your  friend."  With  abundance  of  eloquence, 
our  adventurer  returned  the  compliment.  He  contin- 
ued to  live  at  his  table, — his  horse  was  well  fed  with 
corn  and  hay,  while  Whitney,  almost  every  day,  took 
a  ride  to  some  neighboring  village  along  with  the  land- 
lord and  some  others,  who  were  all  proud  of  the  honor 
he  had  done  them. 

It  happened  that  there  was  an  annual  fair  in  that 
place,  and  in  the  morning  a  box  came  directed  to  him ; 
opening  it,  he  took  out  a  letter,  and,  having  read  it, 
locked  the  box,  and  delivered  it  to  the  landlady,  say- 
ing, that  it  would  be  safer  in  her  custody  than  in  his 
own.  Having  gone  to  see  the  fair,  he  returned  in  great 
haste  in  the  afternoon,  desiring  his  horse  to  be  instantly 
dressed,  as  he  had  seen  a  horse  in  the  fair  for  which  he 
was  desirous  to  exchange  his  own,  adding,  that  he  was 
determined  to  have  the  animal.  He  then  requested  the 
landlady  to  give  him  his  box ;  but  he  was  informed 
that  she  was  gone  to  the  fair.  Hereupon  he  affected  to 
burst  out  into  a  violent  passion,  saying,  that  he  sup- 
posed she  had  locked  up  what  he  committed  to  her 
keeping: — "  If  she  has,"  said  he,  "  I  had  rather  have 
given  ten  guineas,  for  I  have  no  money  but  what  is  in 
her  possession."  Inquiry  was  made,  and  it  was  found 
to  be  as  he  had  said,  which  put  him  into  a  still  greater 
rage.  This  was,  however,  what  he  both  wished  and 
expected, — the  whole  being  of  his  own  invention.  The 
landlord  was  informed  of  his  rage,  and  the  cause  of  it, 
and  entreated  that  he  would  be  easy,  as  he  would  lend 
him  the  sum  he  wanted  until  his  wife  came  home.  Our 
hero  was  greatly  distressed  that  he  should  have  to  bor- 
row money  when  he  had  so  much  of  his  own ;  but  as 
there  was  no  other  method  of  obtaining  cash  to  pur- 
chase his  favorite  horse,  he  accepted  of  the  proffered 
loan  :  with  an  imperious  and  haughty  air,  demanding 
that  his  bill  might  be  prepared  for  payment  forthwith. 

With  forty  guineas  he  rode  to  the  fair;  but  instead 
of  inquiring  for  any  other  horse,  he  spurred  his  own 
through   the  crowd,  and   hastened   to   London.     The 


WHITNEY.  143 

people  of  the  inn  waited  long  for  his  return  that  even- 
ing; but,  as  he  had  frequently  stayed  two  or  three 
days  at  once  in  his  rambles  through  the  country,  they 
suspected  no  fraud.  After  waiting  with  no  small  impa- 
tience for  a  whole  week,  the  landlord  resolved  to  break 
;>pen  the  box,  and  went  to  the  magistrates  of  the  place, 
accompanied  by  witnesses.  It  is  needless  to  record  his 
chagrin  and  mortification,  when  he  found  the  box  filled 
with  sand  and  stones. 

In  London,  Whitney  was  apprehended  upon  the  in- 
formation of  one  of  those  abandoned  females  who  live 
by  betraying  the  simple  ones  of  their  own,  and  by  rob- 
bing and  plundering  the  profligate  of  the  other  sex. 
He  was  committed,  tried,  and  condemned  at  the  follow- 
ing sessions.  The  judge,  before  passing  sentence,  made 
an  excellent  speech  to  him  and  the  other  malefactors, 
in  strong  terms  exhibiting  the  nature  of  their  several 
crimes ;  and  in  particular  addressed  himself  to  Whit- 
ney, exhorting  him  to  a  sincere  repentance,  as  there 
could  be  no  hope  of  a  pardon  to  him  after  a  course  of 
so  many  villanies. 

At  the  place  of  execution,  Whitney  addressed  the 
multitude  in  nearly  the  following  terms : — "  I  have 
been  a  great  offender,  both  against  God  and  my  coun- 
try, by  transgressing  all  laws,  both  human  and  divine. 
I  believe  there  is  not  one  here  present  hut  has  often 
heard  my  name  before  my  confinement,  and  seen  the 
long  catalogue  of  my  crimes,  which  have  since  been 
made  public.  Why  then  should  I  pretend  to  vindi- 
cate a  life  stained  with  so  many  enormous  deeds  1  The 
sentence  passed  upon  me  is  just,  and  I  can  see  the  foot- 
steps of  a  Providence,  which,  before,  I  had  profanely 
laughed  at,  in  my  apprehension  and  conviction.  I 
hope  the  sense  which  I  have  of  these  things  has  enabled 
me  to  make  my  peace  with  Heaven,  the  only  thing 
which  is  now  of  any  concern  to  me.  Join  in  your 
prayers  with  me,  my  dear  countrymen,  that  God  would 
not  forsake  me  in  my  last  moments."  Having  spent  a 
few  minutes  in  prayer,  he  suffered,  in  the  thirty-fourth 
year  of  his  age,  on  the  19th  of  December  1694. 


144 


TIM  BUCKELEY. 

0 

Tim  was  reared  to  the  useful  occupation  of  a  shoe- 
maker, bat  leaving  his  master,  he  came  to  London,  and 
soon  found  out  companions  suited  to  his  disposition. 
He  and  his  associates  frequented  an  alehouse  at  Wap- 
ping;  and  one  day  being  run  short  of  cash,  Tim  asked 
the  landlord  for  ten  shillings,  which  he  refused.  Tim 
was  so  exasperated,  that,  along  with  some  of  his  associ- 
ates, he  broke  into  his  house,  and  bound  him,  his  wife, 
and  maid.  When  Tim  was  about  this  operation,  the 
landlord  conjured  him  to  be  favorable.  "  No,  no,  you 
must  not  expect  any  favor  from  my  hands,  whose  pro- 
digality makes  you  lord  it  over  the  people  here  like  a 
boatswain  over  a  ship's  crew ;  but  I  shall  go  to  another 
part  of  the  town,  where  I  will  be  more  civilly  used, 
and  spend  a  little  of  your  money  there."  Accordingly, 
Tim  and  his  companions  robbed  the  house  of  forty 
pounds,  three  silver  tankards,  a  silver  watch,  and  three 
gold  rings. 

Upon  another  day  Tim  was  airing  in  Hyde-park- 
corner,  and  met  with  Dr.  Cateby,  the  famous  mounte- 
bank. At  the  words  "  Stand  and  deliver  !"  the  doctor 
went  into  a  long  harangue  about  the  honesty  of  his 
calling,  and  of  the  great  difficulty  with  which  he  made 
a  living.  Tim  laughed  heartily,  saying,  "  Quacks  pre- 
tend to  honesty  !  there  is  not  such  a  pack  of  cheating 
knaves  in  the  nation.  Their  impudence  is  intolerable 
for  deceiving  honest  simple  people,  and  pretending  that 
more  men  were  not  slain  at  the  battle  of  the  Boyne, 
than  they  have  recovered  from  death,  or  beckoned 
their  souls  back  when  they  have  been  many  leagues 
from  their  bodies  :  therefore,  deliver !  or  this  pistol 
shall  put  a  stop  to  your  further  ramblings  and  decep- 


TIM    BUCKELEY.  145 

tion."  The  doctor  preferring  his  life  to  his  gold,  pre- 
sented Tim  with  six  guineas,  and  a  watch,  to  show 
him  how  to  keep  time  while  spending  the  money. 

Tim  wa.s  once  apprehended  by  a  baker,  in  the  cha- 
racter of  a  constable,  and  sent  to  Flanders  as  a  soldier. 
He  deserted,  and  returning  to  London,  one  day  met 
with  the  baker's  wife.  He  presented  a  pistol,  and  de- 
manded her  money ;  she  exclaimed,  "  Is  this  justice  or 
conscience,  sir?"  "  Don't  tell  me  of  justice,  for  I  hate 
her  as  much  as  your  husband  can,  because  her  scales 
are  even  !  And  as  for  conscience,  I  have  as  little  of 
that  as  any  baker  in  England,  who  cheats  other  peo- 
ple's bellies  to  fill  his  own  ! — Nay,  a  baker  is  a  worse 
rogue  than  a  tailor ;  for,  whereas  the  latter  commonly 
pinches  his  cabbage  from  the  rich,  the  former,  by  mak- 
ing his  bread  too  light,  robs  all  without  distinction, 
but  chiefly  the  poor,  for  which  he  deserves  hanging 
more  than  I,  or  any  of  my  honest  fraternity."  Then, 
taking  from  her  eleven  shillings  and  two  gold  rings,  he 
sent  her  home  to  relate  her  adventure  to  her  husband. 

Tim  next  stealing  a  good  horse,  commenced  upon  the 
highway,  and  meeting  with  a  pawnbroker  by  whom  he 
had  lost  some  articles,  he  commanded  him  to  stand  and 
deliver.  The  pawnbroker  entreated  for  favor,  saying 
"  that  it  was  a  very  hard  thing  that  honest  people 
could  not  go  about  their  lawful  business  without  being 
robbed."  "  You  talk  of  honesty,  who  live  by  fraud 
and  oppression  ! — your  shop,  like  the  gates  of  hell,  is 
always  open,  in  which  you  sit  at  the  receipt  of  cus- 
tom, and  having  got  the  spoils  of  the  needy,  you  hang 
them  up  in  rank  and  file,  like  so  many  trophies  of  vic- 
tory. To  your  shop  all  sorts  of  garments  resort,  as  on 
a  pilgrimage.  Thou  art  the  treasurer  of  the  thieves' 
exchequer,  for  which  purpose  you  keep  a  private 
warehouse  from  whence  you  ship  them  oft  wholesale, 
or  retail,  according  to  pleasure.  Nay,  the  poor  and  the 
oppressed  have  often  to  pay  their  own  cloth,  before 
they  can  receive  them  back  by  your  exorbitant  exac- 
tions. Come,  come,  blood-sucker,  open  your  purse- 
strings,  or  this  pistol  shall  send  you  where  you  are  to 
M 


146  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

go  sooner  or  later."  The  poor  pawnbroker  did  not, 
however,  wish  to  visit  his  old  friend  before  his  time ; 
he  therefore  ransomed  his  life  at  the  expense  of  twenty- 
eight  guineas,  a  gold  watch,  a  silver  box,  and  two  gold 
rings. 

Upon  another  occasion,  Tim  fortunately  met  with 
a  stock-jobber  (who  had  prosecuted  him  for  felony,) 
and  robbed  him  of  forty-eight  guineas.  He  requested 
something  to  carry  him  home.  Tim  refused,  saying, 
"  I  have  no  charity  for  you  stock-jobbers,  who  rise  and 
fall  like  the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  the  tide,  and  whose 
paths  are  as  unfathomable  as  the  ocean.  The  grass- 
hopper in  the  Royal  Exchange  is  an  emblem  of  your 
character.  What !  give  you  something  to  carry  you 
home  out  of  the  paltry  sum  of  forty-eight  guineas !  I 
won't  give  you  a  farthing."  He  then  bade  him  fare- 
well until  next  meeting. 

Though  unexpected  and  unwished,  it  was  not  long 
before  the  stock-jobber  reconnoitred  Tim,  and  caused 
him  to  be  apprehended  and  committed  to  Newgate. 
He  was  tried,  and  received  sentence  of  death ;  but  ob- 
taining a  reprieve,  and  afterwards  a  pardon,  he  was 
determined  to  be  revenged  of  the  man  who  would  not 
give  him  rest  to  pursue  his  honest  employment ;  he 
therefore  set  fire  to  a  country-house  belonging  to  him. 
To  his  no  small  chagrin,  however,  it  was  quenched 
before  much  harm  was  done. 

Tim  then  went  to  Leicestershire,  broke  into  a  house, 
seized  eighty  pounds,  purchased  a  horse,  and  renewed 
his  former  mode  of  life.  Thus  mounted,  he  attacked 
a  coach  in  which  were  three  gentlemen,  and  two  foot- 
men attending.  Tim's  horse  being  shot  under  him,  he 
killed  one  of  the  gentlemen  and  a  footman,  but  being 
overpowered,  was  committed  to  Nottingham  gaol,  and 
suffered  the  due  reward  of  murder  and  robbery,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-nine,  and  in  the  year  1701. 


147 


TOM  JONES. 

Tom  was  a  native  of  Newcastle-upon-Tyne.  His 
father  was  a  clothier,  whose  business  he  followed  until 
he  was  two-and- twenty  years  of  age.  In  that  period, 
however,  the  prominent  dispositions  of  his  mind  were 
displayed,  by  extravagance,  and  running  into  debt. 
In  order,  therefore,  to  retrieve  his  circumstances,  he 
went  upon  the  highway. 

Out  of  gratitude  for  his  father's  kindness,  he  com- 
menced by  robbing  him  of  eighty  pounds  and  a  good 
horse.  Unaccustomed  to  such  work,  he  rode,  under 
the  impression  that  he  was  pursued  and  in  danger  of 
being  taken,  no  less  than  forty  miles.  Arriving  in 
Staffordshire,  he  attacked  and  robbed  the  stage-coach 
of  a  considerable  booty.  During  the  scuffle,  several 
shots  were  fired  at  the  passengers,  but  no  injury  was 
done. 

A  monkey  belonging  to  one  of  the  passengers,  being 
tied  behind  the  coach,  was  so  frightened  with  the 
firing,  that  he  broke  his  chain,  and  ran  for  his  life.  At 
night,  as  a  countryman  was  coming  over  a  gate,  pug 
leaped  out  of  the  hedge  upon  his  back,  and  clung  very 
fast.  The  poor  man,  who  had  never  seen  such  an  ani- 
mal, imagined  that  he  was  no  less  a  person  than  the 
devil;  and  when  he  came  home,  thundered  at  the  door. 
His  wife  looked  out  at  the  window,  and  asked  him 
what  he  had  got.  "  The  devil !"  cried  he,  and  en- 
treated that  she  would  go  to  the  parson,  and  beg  his 
assistance.  "  Nay,"  quoth  she,  "  you  shall  not  bring 
the  devil  in  here.  If  you  belong  to  him,  I  don't ;  so 
be  content  to  go  without  my  company."  Poor  Hob 
was  obliged  to  wait  at  his  door  until  one  of  his  neigh- 
bors, wiser  than  the  rest,  came,  and  with  a  few  apples 


148  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

and  pears,  dispossessed  him  ef  the  devil,  and  got  him 
for  his  pains.  He  accordingly  carried  him  to  the 
owner,  and  received  a  suitable  reward. 

Tom's  next  adventure  was  with  a  Quaker,  who  for- 
merly kept  a  button  shop,  but,  being  reduced  in  his  cir- 
cumstances, he  was  going  down  to  the  country  to  avoid 
an  arrest.  In  this  situation  he  was  more  afraid  of  a 
bailiff  than  a  robber.  Therefore,  when  Tom  took  hold 
of  him  by  the  coat,  broadbrim  very  gravely  said,  uAt 
whose  suit  dost  thou  detain  me?" — "I  detain  thee  on 
thy  own  suit,  and  my  demand  is  for  all  thy  substance." 
The  Quaker  having  discovered  his  mistake,  added, 
"  Truly,  friend,  I  don't  know  thee,  nor  can  I  indeed 
imagine  that  ever  thee  and  I  had  any  dealings  to- 
gether."— "  You  shall  find  then."  said  Jones,  "  that  we 
shall  deal  together  now."  He  then  presented  his  pistol. 
"  Pray,  neighbor,  use  no  violence,  for  if  thou  earnest 
me  to  jail,  I  am  undone.  I  have  fourteen  guineas 
about  me,  and  if  that  will  satisfy  thee,  thou  art  wel- 
come to  take  them.  Here  they  are,  and  give  me  leave 
to  assure  thee,  that  I  have  frequently  stopped  the  mouth 
of  a  bailiff  with  a  much  less  sum,  and  made  him  affirm 
to  my  creditors  that  he  could  not  find  me."  Jones 
received  the  money,  and  replied,  "  Friend,  I  am  not 
such  a  rogue  as  thou  takest  me  to  be :  I  am  no  bailiff, 
but  an  honest,  generous  highwayman." — "I  shall  not 
trouble  myself,"  cried  the  Quaker,  "  about  the  distinc- 
tion of  names ;  if  a  man  takes  my  money  from  me  by 
force,  it  concerns  me  but  little  what  he  calls  himself,  or 
what  his  pretences  may  be  for  so  doing." 

At  another  time  Tom  met  with  lord  and  lady  Whar- 
ton, and  though  they  had  three  men  attending,  demand- 
ed their  charity  in  his  usual  style.  His  lordship  said, 
"  Do  you  know  me,  sir,  that  you  dare  be  so  bold  as 
stop  me  upon  the  road?" — "  Not  I;  I  neither  know  nor 
care  who  you  are.  I  am  apt  to  imagine  that  you  are 
some  great  man,  because  you  speak  so  big ;  but,  be  as 
great  as  you  will,  sir,  I  must  have  you  to  know,  that 
there  is  no  man  upon  the  road  so  great  as  myself; 
therefore,  pray  be  quick  in  answering  my  demands,  for 


Arthur  Chambers.        P.  151. 


ARTHUR  CHAMBERS.  151 

decays  may  prove  dangerous."  Tom  then  received  two 
hundred  pounds,  three  diamond  rings,  and  two  gold 
watches. 

Upon  another  day,  Tom  received  intelligence  that  a 
gentleman  was  upon  the  road  with  a  hundred  pounds. 
He  waited  upon  the  top  of  a  hill  to  welcome  his  ap- 
proach. A  steward  of  the  gentleman  discovered  him, 
and  suspecting  his  character,  desired  that  the  money 
might  he  given  to  him,  and  he  would  ride  off  with  it, 
as  the  robber  would  not  suspect  him.  This  was  done ; 
Tom  came  forward,  stopped  the  coach,  and  the  gentle- 
man gave  him  ten  pounds.  He  was  greatly  enraged, 
and  mentioned  the  sum  he  knew  the  gentleman  carried 
along  with  him.  In  an  instant,  however,  suspecting 
the  stratagem,  he  rode  after  the  steward  with  all  possi- 
ble speed  ;  but  the  latter  observing  him  in  pursuit,  in- 
creased his  pace,  and  reached  an  inn  before  Tom 
could  overtake  him. 

After  many  similar  adventures,  Tom  was  apprehend- 
ed for  robbing  a  farmer's  wife.  He  was  so  habituated 
to  vice,  that  nothing  but  the  gallows  could  arrest  his 
course,  and  in  the  forty-second  year  of  his  age  he  met 
with  that  fate,  on  the  25th  April  1702. 


ARTHUR  CHAMBERS. 


Arthur  Chambers  was  of  low  extraction,  and  desti- 
tute of  every  amiable  quality.  From  his  very  infancy 
he  was. addicted  to  pilfering;  and  the  low  circumstances 
of  his  parents  being  unable  to  support  his  extravagan- 
ces, he  had  recourse  to  dishonest  practices.  It  is  even 
reported,  that  before  he  was  dressed  in  boy's  cUthes,  he 
committed  several  acts  of  theft. 

The  first  thing  which  he  attempted,  was  to  learn 
from  an  experienced  master,  all  those  cant  words  and 


152  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

phrases  current  among  pickpockets,  by  which  they  dis- 
tinguish one  another.  Chambers  was  soon  an  adept  in 
this  new  language ;  and  being  well  dressed,  he  was 
introduced  to  the  better  sort  of  company,  and  took  oc- 
casion, when  such  opportunities  offered,  to  rob  his  com- 
panions. 

In  a  short  time  he  was  confined  in  Bridewell,  to 
answer  with  hard  labor  for  some  small  offence.  Hav- 
ing obtained  his  liberty,  he  left  the  town,  where  he 
again  begun  to  be  suspected,  and  went  to  Cornwall. 
His  social  turn  gained  him  a  reception  in  genteel  com- 
panies, and  he  became  a  memorable  character  in  the 
place.  Before  he  left  London,  he  provided  himself 
with  a  large  q  /antity  of  base  crowns  and  haif-crowns, 
which  he  uttered  wherever  he  went.  After  many  had 
been  deceived,  strict  search  was  made,  and  Chambers 
detected.  For  this  offence  he  was  committed  to  gaol, 
where  he  remained  a  year  and  a  half. 

As  he  could  no  longer  abide  in  Cornwall,  he  re- 
turned to  London.  Upon  his  arrival  he  went  to  an 
alehouse,  and  called  for  a  pot  of  beer  and  a  slice  ot 
bread  and  cheese.  Having  refreshed  himself,  he 
entered  into  conversation  with  some  persons  in  a 
neighboring  box.  The  conversation  turned  upon  the 
superior  advantages  of  a  country  life,  but  was  insensi- 
bly directed  to  that  of  robbery.  Chambers,  improving 
the  hint,  regretted  that  no  better  provision  was  made 
for  suppressing  such  villanies ;  for,  added  he,  death  is 
too  scarce  a  punishment  for  a  man  even  if  he  robbed 
the  whole  world.  "  But  why  do  I  talk  thus?"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "if  great  offenders  are  suffered,  well  may  the 
poor  and  necessitous  say,  we  must  live,  and  where  is 
the  harm  of  taking  a  few  guineas  from  those  who  can 
spare  them,  or  who,  perhaps,  have  robbed  others  of 
them?  For  my  own  part,  I  look  upon  a  dexterous 
pickpocket  as  a  very  useful  person,  as  he  draws  his 
resources  from  the  purses  of  those  who  would  spend 
their  money  in  gaming,  or  worse.  Look  ye,  gentle- 
men, I  can  pick  a  pocket  as  well  as  any  man  in  Britain, 
and  yet,  though   I   say  it,  I  am  as  honest  as  the  best 


ARTHUR    CHAMBERS.  153 

Englishman  breathing.  Observe  that  country  gentle- 
man passing  by  the  window  there ;  I  will  engage  to 
rob  him  of  his  watch,  though  it  is  scarcely  five 
o'clock." 

A  wager  of  ten  shillings  was  instantly  taken,  and 
Chambers  hastened  after  the  gentleman.  He  accosted 
him  at  the  extremity  of  Long  lane,  and  pulling  off  his 
hat,  asked  him  if  he  could  inform  him  the  nearest  way 
to  Knave's  acre.  The  stranger  replied  that  he  himself 
wished  to  know  the  way  to  Moorfields,  which  Cham- 
bers pointed  out:  and  while  the  other  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  places  to  which  he  directed  him,  he  em- 
braced an  opportunity  to  rob  him  of  his  watch,  and 
hastening  back  to  the  alehouse,  threw  down  his  plun- 
der, and  claimed  the  wager. 

He  next  exerted  his  ingenuity  upon  a  plain  country- 
man, newly  come  to  town.  The  rustic  had  got  into 
the  company  of  sharpers,  and  stood  gazing  at  a  gam- 
ing table.  Our  adventurer  stepping  up,  tapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  and  inquired  what  part  of  the  country  he 
came  from,  and  if  he  was  desirous  to  find  a  place  as  a 
gentleman's  servant.  Robin  answered,  that  it  was  his 
very  errand  to  town,  to  find  such  a  place.  Chambers 
then  said  that  he  could  fit  him  to  a  hair.  "  I  believe  I 
can  afford  you  myself  four  pounds  a  year,  standing 
wages,  and  six  shillings  a  week  board  wages,  and  all 
cast  clothes,  which  are  none  of  the  worst."  This  was 
sufficient  to  make  Robin  almost  leap  out  of  his  skin,  for 
never  before  had  such  an  offer  been  made  to  him. 
Having  arranged  every  thing  to  his  wish,  Robin  entered 
upon  his  new  service.  He  received  Chambers'  cloak, 
threw  it  over  his  arm,  and  followed  his  master.  Cham- 
bers ordered  a  coach,  and  Robin  being  placed  behind, 
they  drove  off  to  an  inn.  Dinner  being  ordered,  Robin 
sat  down  with  his  master,  and  made  a  hearty  meal, 
the  former  in  the  mean  while  instructing  him  in  all  the 
tricks  of  the  town^and  inculcating  the  necessity  of  his 
being  always  upon  his  guard.  He  informed  him  also, 
that  the  servants  of  the  inn  would  be  requesting  him  to 
join  in  play  at  cards,  and  that  he  was  in  danger  of 


154  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

being  imposed  upon ;  therefore,  if  he  had  any  money 
upon  him,  it  would  be  proper  to  give  it  to  him,  and  lie 
would  receive  it  back  when  necessary.  Robin,  accord- 
ingly, pulled  out  his  purse,  and  delivered  all  that  he 
had,  with  which  Chambers  paid  his  dinner,  and  went 
off,  leaving  Robin  to  shift  for  himself,  and  to  lament 
the  loss  of  his  money  and  his  new  master. 

The  next  adventure  of  Chambers  was  directed  against 
the  innkeeper  of  the  Greyhound,  St.  Alban's.  His  wife 
was  rather  handsome,  and  exceedingly  facetious;  and 
Chambers  being  often  there,  was  on  terms  of  the  great- 
est familiarity  with  the  household.  Directing  his  steps 
thither,  and  pretending  to  have  been  attacked  by  three 
men  near  the  inn,  he  went  in  with  his  clothes  all  be- 
smeared. The  travellers  who  were  in  the  inn  condoled 
with  him  on  his  misfortune,  and  gave  him  a  change  of 
clothes  until  his  own  should  be  cleaned.  To  make 
amends  to  himself  for  this  sad  disaster,  he  invited  six  of 
his  fellow-travellers,  with  the  landlord  and  his  wife,  to 
supper.  The  glass  circulated  pretty  freely,  and  the 
wife  entertained  them  with  several  appropriate  songs. 
Chambers  was  careful  that  her  glass  never  remained 
long  empty.  In  a  short  time  he  saw  with  pleasure  that 
all  his  companions,  with  the  solitary  exception  of  the 
landlord,  were  sunk  in  the  arms  of  sleep,  and  he  pro- 
posed that  they  should  be  conveyed  to  bed  ;  whereupon 
two  or  three  stout  fellows  came  to  perform  that  office. 
Chambers  was  so  obliging  as  to  lend  his  assistance,  but 
took  care  that  their  money  and  watches  should  pay 
him  for  his  trouble. 

Left  alone  with  the  landlord,  he  proposed  that  they 
should  have  an  additional  bottle.  Another  succeeded 
before  the  landlord  was  in  a  condition  to  be  conveyed 
to  rest.  In  aiding  the  servants  with  the  corpulent  inn- 
keeper, he  discovered  the  geography  of  his  bedroom, 
and  finding  that  the  door  was  directly  opposite  to  his 
own,  he  retired,  not  to  rest,  but  to  plot  and  to  perfect 
his  villany. 

When  he  was  convinced  that  the  wine  would  work 
its  full  effect  upon  the  deluded  pair,   he  revisited  the 


ARTHUR    CHAMBERS.  155 

bedchamber,  waited  some  time,  and  extracted  what 
property  he  could  most  conveniently  carry  away ;  by 
the  dawn  of  day  dressed  himself  in  the  best  suit  of 
clothes  which  his  bottle  companions  could  afford,  called 
for  the  horse  of  the  person  whose  clothes  he  now  wore, 
left  two  guineas  with  the  waiter  to  pay  his  bill,  gave 
half-a-crown  to  the  ostler,  and  rode  off  for  London. 

His  first  enterprise  after  his  arrival  was  attacking  an 
Italian  merchant  upon  the  Exchange.  He  took  him 
aside,  eagerly  inquired  what  goods  he  had  to  dispose 
of,  and,  entering  into  conversation,  one  of  Chambers' 
accomplices  approaching,  joined  the  conversation. 
Meanwhile,  our  adventurer  found  means  to  extract 
from  his  pocket  a  large  purse  of  gold  and  his  gold 
watch,  which  he  delivered  to  his  accomplice.  Not 
satisfied  with  his  first  success,  and  observing  a  silk 
handkerchief  suspended  from  his  pocket,  he  walked 
behind  him  to  seize  it,  but  was  detected  in  the  act,  and 
kept  fast  hold  of  by  the  merchant,  who  cried  out  lusti- 
ly, "Thief!  thief!"  In  this  dilemma,  Chambers' 
accomplice  ran  to  the  crier,  and  requested  him  to  give 
public  proclamation,  that  if  any  body  had  lost  a  purse 
of  gold,  upon  giving  proper  information  it  would  be 
restored.  With  the  expectation  of  finding  his  money 
again,  the  merchant  let  go  his  hold ;  and,  in  the  crowd, 
Chambers  and  his  friends  retired  with  their  booty. 

But  Chambers  was  now  resolved  to  perform  an 
action  worthy  of  his  talents.  He  hired  the  first  floor 
of  a  house,  and  agreed  with  the  landlord  for  14s.  a 
week.  Having,  in  the  first  instance,  been  mistaken  for 
a  man  of  fortune,  both  from  his  appearance  and  style 
of  living,  a  mutual  confidence  was  gradually  estab- 
lished. When  his  plot  was  matured,  he  one  day 
entered  with  a  very  pensive  and  sorrowful  look  the 
apartment  of  his  landlord,  who  anxiously  inquired  the 
cause  of  his  great  uneasiness;  when  Chambers,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  informed  him,  that  he  had  just  re- 
turned from  Hampstead,  where  he  had  witnessed  the 
death  of  a  beloved  brother,  who  had  left  him  sole  heir, 
with  an  express  injunction  to  convey  his  dear  remains 


156  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

to  Westminster  Abbey.  He  therefore  entreated  the 
favor  of  being  allowed  to  bring  his  brother's  remains  at 
a  certain  hour  to  his  house,  that  from  thence  they  might 
be  conveyed  to  the  place  of  their  destination,  which 
very  reasonable  request  was  readily  granted  by  his 
unsuspecting  landlord. 

Chambers  went  off  the  next  morning,  leaving  word, 
that  the  corpse  would  be  there  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
evening.  At  the  appointed  hour,  the  hearse,  with  six 
horses,  arrived  at  the  door.  An  elegant  coffin,  with  six 
gilded  handles,  was  carried  up  stairs,  and  placed  upon 
the  dining-room  table,  and  the  horses  were  conveyed 
by  the  men  to  a  stable  in  the  neighborhood.  They  in- 
formed the  landlord,  that  Chambers  was  detained  on 
business,  and  would  probably  sleep  that  night  in  the 
Strand. 

That  artful  rogue  was,  however,  confined  in  the 
coffin,  in  which  air-holes  had  been  made,  the  screw- 
nails  left  unfixed,  his  clothes  all  on,  with  a  winding- 
sheet  wrapped  over  them,  and  his  face  blanched  with 
flour.  All  the  family  were  now  gone  to  bed,  except 
the  maid-servants.  Chambers  arose  from  his  confine- 
ment, went  down  stairs  to  the  kitchen  wrapped  in  his 
winding-sheet,  sat  down,  and  stared  the  maid  in  the 
face,  who,  overwhelmed  with  fear,  cried  out,  "A  ghost ! 
a  ghost !"  and  ran  up  stairs  to  her  master's  room,  who 
chid  her  unreasonable  fears,  and  requested  her  to  return 
to  bed,  and  compose  herself.  She,  however,  obstinate- 
ly refused,  and  remained  in  the  room. 

In  a  short  time,  however,  in  stalked  the  stately 
ghost,  took  his  seat,  and  conferred  a  complete  sweat 
and  a  mortal  fright  upon  all  three  who  were  present. 
Retiring  from  his  station  when  he  deemed  it  conve- 
nient, he  continued,  by  the  moving  of  the  doors,  and 
the  noise  raised  through  the  house,  to  conceal  his 
design  :  in  the  mean  time,  he  went  down  stairs,  opened 
the  doors  to  his  accomplices,  who  assisted  in  carrying 
off  the  plate,  and  every  thing  which  could  be  removed, 
not  even  sparing  the  kitchen  utensils.  The  maid  was 
the  first  to  venture  from  her  room  in  the  morning,  and 


STEPHEN  BUNCE.  157 

to  inform  her  master  and  mistress  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, who,  more  than  the  night  before,  chid  her 
credulity  in  believing  that  a  ghost  could  rob  a  house, 
or  carry  away  any  article  out  of  it.  In  a  little  time, 
however,  the  landlord  was  induced  to  rise  from  his 
bed,  and  to  move  down  stairs,  and  found,  to  his  asto- 
nishment and  chagrin,  that  the  whole  of  his  plate,  and 
almost  the  whole  of  his  movables,  were  gone,  for 
which  he  had  only  received  in  return  an  empty  coffin. 

A  great  many  other  stories  of  the  like  nature  are 
lold  of  Chambers ;  and  it  is  well  known,  that  for  the 
few  years  he  was  permitted,  by  singular  good  fortune, 
to  go  at  large,  he  committed  as  many  artful  and  daring 
actions  as  were  ever  accomplished  by  one  man. 

At  length,  however,  one  Jack  Hall,  a  chimney- 
sweeper, being  apprehended,  to  save  his  own  life, 
made  himself  an  evidence  against  Chambers,  who, 
being  cast  upon  that  information,  was,  with  two  other 
notorious  offenders,  executed  at  Tyburn,  in  1703,  in 
the  twenty-eighth  year  of  his  age. 


STEPHEN  BUNCE. 


In  the  plain  but  strong  phrase,  this  man  was  born  a 
thief.  Scarcely  could  his  hand  carry  away  the  pro- 
perty of  others,  when  he  engaged  in  this  nefarious 
trade.  While  yet  a  child,  he  was  frequently  amusing 
himself  with  the  children  of  a  charcoal  man  who  lived 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  would  even  then  fill  his  pock- 
ets with  the  charcoal,  and  sell  it  to  a  woman  that  kept 
an  apple-stall  ior  codlings.  One  day  he  wished  to  try 
his  ingenuity  upon  the  good  woman,  and  requested  to 
have  some  codlings  beforehand,  promising  to  pay  them 
with  his  next  charcoal.  But  though  she  could  pur- 
chase from  him  that  which  she  knew  he  had  stolen, 
yet  she  was  not  disposed  to  give  him  any  credit. 

N  7 


158  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

Stephen  was  highly  enraged  that  his  fidelity  should 
be  called  in  question  by  the  old  woman,  and  determin- 
ed upon  revenge;  so  stealing  a  larger  quantity  of  char- 
coal than  usual,  he  filled  the  empty  parts  with  powder, 
and  sealed  them  with  black  wax.  The  old  woman 
kindled  a  fire  of  them,  and  it  being  a  very  cold  frosty 
night,  sat  down  before  the  fire  in  the  usual  manner, 
to  warm  her  starving  body.  But  scarcely  had  the 
heat  begun  to  operate,  when  the  powder  catching  fire, 
off  flew  the  kettle  from  the  grate,  the  codlings  and  the 
water  sprang  about  the  old  woman's  ears,  and,  in  the 
midst  of  fire  and  smoke,  she  cried  out  in  the  most  pite- 
ous manner,  which  brought  a  great  mob  about  her  to 
assist  her  in  the  hour  of  misfortune  and  distress.  For- 
tunately, however,  the  chief  injury  that  the  old  woman 
received  was  a  hole  burnt  in  her  gown,  a  scalding  to 
her  chin,  and  the  trouble  of  picking  up  her  codlings. 

But  Stephen  was  not  long  to  remain  in  correspon- 
dence with  apple  wives  and  such  low  gentry.  Arrived 
at  the  years  of  a  stripling,  he  went  into  a  coffee-house, 
and  called  for  a  dish  of  tea.  Meanwhile,  rustling 
among  the  newspapers,  he  picked  up  the  lid  of  a  silver 
box,  and  paying  for  his  tea,  went  and  instantly  got  his 
own  initials  engraven  upon  it.  Then,  with  the  greatest 
assurance,  he  went  back,  saying,  "  Gentlemen,  have 
not  I  left  the  bottom  of  my  tobacco-box  ?"  Thereupon 
rummaging  among  the  papers,  he  found  it,  exclaiming, 
as  he  put  the  lid  on,  "Oh,  here  it  is  !"  Upon  this  the 
owner  claimed  it  as  his  property,  but  Stephen  impu- 
dently showing  his  cipher  upon  it,  claimed  and  retained 
it  as  his  own. 

At  one  time  Bunce  was  benighted  at  Branyard  in 
Hertfordshire,  and  being  destitute  of  money,  was  at 
infinite  loss  how  to  proceed.  But  a  fertile  invention  is 
a  necessary  qualification  in  a  deceiver,  and  Stephen's 
was  acquiring  considerable  strength.  He  called  at  the 
parson's  door,  and  requested  the  maid  to  tell  her  master 
that  a  stranger  wished  to  have  the  honor  of  speaking 
with  him.  When  the  clergyman  made  his  appearance, 
Stephen,  in  an  eloquent  and  affecting  tone,  informed 


STEPHEN    BUNCE.  159 

him  that  he  was  a  poor  student  from  Oxford,  going 
home  to  his  friends,  and  as  he  was  benighted,  he  en- 
treated that  he  would  afford  him  the  friendly  aid  of  his 
roof  for  one  night.  The  generous-hearted  parson, 
pleased  with  his  appearance  and  pitying  his  distress, 
kindly  received  him  and  entertained  him  according  to 
the  best  of  his  household. 

When  Stephen  was  taking  his  leave  for  the  night, 
he,  with  no  small  degree  of  modesty  and  respect,  re- 
quested that  he  might  be  permitted  to  give  the  parson 
a  sermon  in  the  morning,  the  next  day  being  Sunday. 
As,  in  general,  no  clergyman  has  any  great  objection  to 
a  day  of  rest,  the  parson  willingly  accepted  of  his 
offered  services.  The  morning  came,  and  the  hour  of 
divine  service  being  arrived,  the  young  student  was 
equipped  in  the  parson's  gown  and  cassock,  and  as  it 
was  about  a  mile  to  the  church,  he  was  mounted  on 
the  parson's  horse,  while  the  latter,  with  his  wife  and 
family,  went  a  nearer  path  through  the  fields.  When 
his  reverence  came  to  the  church,  every  one  was 
scraping  and  bowing,  and  inquiring  why  he  was  with- 
out his  canonical  robes  on  the  day  of  sacred  duty.  He 
soon  relieved  their  anxiety,  by  informing  them  that  a 
young  gentleman  of  the  university  of  Oxford  would  be 
there  presently,  and  would  preach  for  him  that  day. 
They  waited  for  some  time,  then  commenced  divine 
service;  the  prayers  were  now  ended,  and  the  last 
psalm  sung,  but  no  preacher  appeared.  In  short,  not 
to  detain  our  readers  with  a  long  narrative,  they  waited 
until  noon, — the  congregation  went  home  without  a 
sermon, — and  the  parson  without  his  robes  and  horse, 
while  Bunce  was  by  this  time  far  advanced  on  his 
journey,  employing  the  horse  to  carry  a  thief  instead 
of  a  clergyman. 

Upon  another  day,  as  Stephen  was  going  about 
seeking  whom  he  might  render  lighter  on  their  journey, 
he  saw  a  gentleman  well  mounted  upon  a  gelding,  and 
going  into  the  road  along  where  lie  was  to  ride,  he  laid 
himself  all  along  the  ground,  with  his  ear  to  it.  When 
the  gentleman  came  up  to  him,  he  asked  the  reason  of 


160  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

such  unusual  conduct.  Stephen  held  up  his  hand  to 
him,  signifying  his  desire  that  he  should  be  silent;  but 
the  gentleman,  being  of  a  hasty  temper,  cried,  "  What 
the  plague  are  you  listening  to  7"  Upon  this  Stephen 
sat  up,  saying,  "Oh,  dear  sir,  I  have  often  heard  great 
talk  of  the  fairies,  but  I  could  never  have  the  faith  to 
believe  that  there  was  ever  any  such  thing  in  nature, 
till  now,  in  this  very  place,  I  hear  such  a  ravishing 
and  melodious  harmony  of  all  kinds  of  music,  that  it 
is  enough  to  charm  me  to  sit  here,  if  possible,  to  all 
eternity." 

Curiosity,  that  active  principle  in  the  human  mind, 
inclined  the  gentleman  to  alight  from  his  horse  to  hear 
the  enchanting  music.  Having  reached  the  ground,  he 
gave  his  gelding  to  Stephen  to  hold  during  his  interview 
with  the  fairies.  Then,  applying  his  ear  to  the  ground, 
he  said,  "I  can  hear  nothing."  Bunce  desired  him  to 
turn  the  other  ear.  This  being  done,  and  his  face 
averted  from  him,  Bunce  leaped  into  his  saddle,  and 
rode  off  with  his  gelding  at  full  speed,  until  he  came  to 
Romford.  Supposing  that  the  owner  would  have  some 
particular  inn  where  he  put  up  his  horse,  and  therefore 
that  the  horse  would  know  that  place,  he  went  after 
the  horse  at  a  small  distance. 

He  no  sooner  appeared  than  the  ostler,  who  was 
standing  at  the  door,  exclaimed,  "Master!  master! 
here  's  Mr.  Bartlet's  horse  come  without  him."  Ste- 
phen, having  discovered  the  name  of  the  owner  of  the 
gelding,  said  to  the  innkeeper,  "  Mr.  Bartlet  being  en- 
gaged with  some  gentlemen  at  play  in  Ingatestone,  he 
requests  you  to  send  him  fifteen  guineas,  and  to  keep 
his  horse  in  pledge  in  the  mean  time,  until  he  comes 
himself  in  the  evening."  "  Ay,  ay,"  replied  the  inn- 
keeper, "  a'  hundred  guineas,  if  he  stood  in  need  of 
them."  So  Bunce,  having  received  the  fifteen  guineas, 
piosecuted  his  journey  to  London.  In  a  few  hours, 
Mr.  Bartlet  came  puffing  and  blowing,  and  covered 
with  perspiration  and  dust.  The  innkeeper  accosted 
him,  saying,  "Oh!  dear  sir,  why  need  you  have  sent 
your  gelding,  and  so  put  yourself  to  the  trouble  of 


STEPHEN    BUNCE.  16l 

coming  in  this  sultry  weather  on  foot,  for  the  small 
sum  of  fifteen  guineas,  when  you  might  have  com- 
manded ten  times  as  much  without  a  pledge?" — 
"What!"  cried  the  gentleman,  "has  the  fellow,  then, 
brought  my  gelding  hither?  A  villain!  he  was  pretty 
honest  in  that ;  but  I  find  the  rogue  has  made  me  pay 
fifteen  guineas  for  hearing  one  tune  of  the  fairies." 

Bunce  was  an  industrious  man,  and  frequented  the 
billiard-tables,  the  cockpits,  and  every  place  where  he 
thought  that  a  penny  would  come  in  his  way.  Though 
his  funds  often  afforded  him  the  means  of  reformation, 
he  naturally  hated  virtue  and  honesty ;  he,  therefore, 
with  redoubled  keenness,  pursued  his  depredations. 
Once,  upon  foot,  he  met  with  a  butcher  between  Pad- 
dington  and  London,  who,  being  a  strong,  lusty  fellow, 
was  not  disposed  to  give  his  contribution  to  Bunce 
without  an  exchange  of  blows.  The  cudgelling  com- 
menced, and,  though  the  butcher  acted  his  part  well, 
yet.  Bunce  was  victorious.  The  conqueror,  on  search- 
ing for  his  spoil,  found  the  immense  sum  of  fourpence 
in  his  pockets.  "Is  this  all  you  have  got?"  "And 
too  much  to  lose,"  said  the  butcher.  "You  villain  !" 
cried  Bunce,  "  if  you  'd  fight  at  this  rate  for  a  groat, 
what  a  plague  would  you  have  done  if  you  'd  had  more 
money?" 

This  was  rather  an  unfortunate  adventure,  to  have 
lost  so  much  time  and  given  so  many  blows  for  so  lit- 
tle ;  but,  returning  home,  he  observed  a  goldsmith,  who 
was  a  far  richer  prize  than  a  butcher,  telling  a  large 
sum  of  money  in  his  shop.  His  eyes  instantly  spar- 
kled, and  his  invention  awoke.  He  went  into  an  old 
shop  in  the  vicinity,  and  purchased  one  farthing's 
worth  of  salt.  Then,  hastening  into  the  goldsmith's 
shop,  he  threw  the  whole  in  his  eyes;  so  that  while  he 
was  rubbing  his  peepers,  and  stamping  with  rage, 
Bunce  went  off  with  about  fifty  pounds — a  tolerable 
return  for  the  outlay  of  a  farthing. 

It  is  an  old  proverb,  "  Lightly  come,  lightly  go." 
The  same  evening,  having  gone  to  recreate  himself  in 
the  company  of  certain  females,  he  was   robbed  of 


162  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

twenty  pounds,  when,  in  the  most  furious  manner, 
though  to  no  purpose,  he  vented  his  imprecations 
against  all  the  sex,  asserting,  that  "  every  woman  was 
a  crocodile  at  ten,  a  fury  at  thirty,  and  a  witch  at  four- 
score." 

Under  the  influence  of  vexatious  disappointment, 
Bunce  soon  spent  the  remainder  of  his  fifty  pounds, 
and  stern  necessity  again  impelled  him  to  action. 
Along  with  one  of  his  trusty  companions,  he  went  into 
a  wollen-draper's  shop,  just  as  the  good  man  was  about 
to  shut  up ;  and,  while  he  was  cheapening  a  remnant 
of  cloth,  his  companion  stole  the  key  of  the  shop  from 
its  usual  resting  place;  upon  which  they  both  went  off 
without  making  a  purchase.  Favored  by  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  they  returned,  and,  without  interruption 
or  difficulty,  extracted  from  the  shop  cloth  to  the 
amount  of  eighty  pounds. 

Bunce  having  been  afterwards,  by  an  order  of  the 
court,  sent  a  soldier  into  Spain,  while  there,  he  and 
his  comrades  were  one  day  in  great  want  of  victuals, 
and,  having  loitered  all  day  about  the  market-place  of 
Barcelona  without  finding  any  thing  to  remove  their 
hunger,  they  discovered,  in  the  evening,  a  countryman 
returning  home  on  an  ass.  They  followed  him,  and, 
having  to  ascend  a  steep  hill,  he  alighted  and  led  the 
ass.  Bunce,  with  his  companion,  slipped  quietly  for- 
ward, and  dexterously  removing  the  bridle  from  the 
ass's  head  to  his  own,  his  comrade  went  off  with  the 
ass,  and  Bunce  trudged  after  the  man  upon  all-fours. 
Arrived  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  he  looked  around,  and,  to 
hi?  great  consternation  and  amazement,  saw  his  ass 
transformed  into  a  man. 

Stephen,  observing  his  surprise,  said,  "  Dear  master, 
don't  be  troubled  at  this  strange  alteration  that  you  see 
in  your  beast;  for,  indeed,  I  was  no  ass,  as  you  sup- 
posed me,  but  a  man,  real  flesh  and  blood,  as  you 
yourself  are :  but  you  must  know,  that  it  being  my 
misfortune  to  commit  a  sin  against  the  Virgin  Mary, 
she  resented  it  so  heinously,  that  she  transformed  me 
into  the  likeness  of  an  ass  for  set  en  years ;  and  now, 


STEPHEN    BUNCE.  163 

the  time  being  expired,  I  resume  my  proper  shape 
again,  and  am  at  my  own  disposal.  However,  sir,  1 
return  you  many  thanks  for  your  goodness  towards 
me;  for  since  I  have  been  in  your  custody,  you  have 
put  me  to  no  more  labor  than  what  I,  you,  or  any  other 
ass,  might  be  able  to  bear." 

The  countryman  was  greatly  surprised  at  the  rela- 
tion, but  was  well  satisfied,  on  receiving  the  grateful 
thanks  of  his  former  ass  for  the  kind  treatment  he  had 
given  him  during  the  period  of  his  degradation.  Ste- 
phen returned  to  his  comrade,  who  had  made  the  ass 
undergo  another  transmigration  into  money,  so  that 
these  two  hungry  sharks  hastened  to  set  their  teeth  at 
work,  lest  they  should  lose  the  power  of  action  by  long 
disuse.  Meanwhile,  the  countryman  returned  to  town 
to  purchase  another  ass  to  carry  him  home.  But,  to 
nis  astonishment,  the  first  thing  he  met  with  was  his 
own  individual  ass.  Stepping  up  to  the  animal,  he 
said,  "  Oh  !  I  see  that  you  have  committed  another  sin 
against  the  Virgin  Mary,  but  I  shall  take  care  how  I 
■>uy  you  again." 

Bunce  was  married  to  a  victualler's  daughter  in  Ply- 
nouth,  and  for  some  time  lived  with  her  with  tolerable 
regularity,  making  the  table  roar,  and  the  bowl  to 
foam,  and  entertaining  all  the  merry  beaux  of  the  town, 
until  one  of  the  tars  offended  Bunce  by  his  politeness. 
Upon  this,  he  left  his  young  wife,  and  plunged  into  all 
those  scenes  of  debauchery  which  are  the  usual  attend- 
ants of  the  acquisition  of  money  by  unlawful  means. 
In  the  progress  of  time  his  manners  became  so  aban- 
doned and  profligate,  and  his  conversation  so  loose, 
that  he  was  the  abhorrence  of  all  decent  persons,  and  a 
disgrace  to  human  nature.  He  was  at  last  detected  in 
his  wickedness,  and  suffered  at  Tyburn  in  the  year 
1707,  in  company  with  Dick  Low  and  Jack  Hall, 
whose  histories  are  not  of  sufficient  interest  to  warrant 
their  insertion  in  these  pages 


164 


JACK  OVET. 

jack  Uvet  was  born  at  Nottingham,  and,  after  serv- 
ing an  apprenticeship  to  a  shoemaker,  for  some  time 
gained  his  bread  by  that  industrious  and  useful  em- 
ployment :  but  his  licentious  dispositions  inclining  him 
to  profligate  and  abandoned  company,  he  soon  took  to 
the  highway. 

After  having  purchased  a  horse,  pistols,  and  every 
necessary  utensil  proper  to  his  projected  profession,  he 
rode  towards  London,  and  on  the  way  robbed  a  gentle- 
man of  twenty  pounds.  That  gentleman,  however, 
not  destitute  of  courage,  and  unwilling  to  part  with  his 
money,  told  Ovet,  that  if  he  had  not  taken  him  una- 
wares, he  would  not  so  easily  have  plundered  him  of 
his  property.  The  son  of  Crispin  was  not  destitute  of 
the  essential  qualifications  of  his  new  profession ;  he, 
therefore,  replied,  that  he  had  already  ventured  his  life 
for  his  twenty  pounds;  "but,"  continued  he,  "here's 
your  money  again,  and  whoever  is  the  better  man,  let 
him  win  it  and  wear  it."  The  proposal  being  agreed 
to,  and  both  employing  their  swords,  the  gentleman 
fell,  and  Ovet  had  the  money. 

But  having  now  stained  his  hands  with  blood,  it  was 
not  long  before  he  killed  another  man  in  a  quarrel. 
He,  however,  escaped  from  justice,  and  continued  his 
depredations.  One  day,  being  greatly  in  want  of  mo- 
ney, and  meeting  one  Rogers  with  some  pack-horses, 
he  turned  one  of  them  off  the  way,  opened  the  pack, 
and  extracted  about  two  hundred  and  eighty  guineas, 
with  three  dozen  of  silver  knives,  forks,  and  spoons. 
Then,  tying  the  horse  to  a  tree,  he  made  off  with  the 
spoil 

Another  time,  Jack  Ovet,  drinking  at  the  Star  inn, 
in  the  Strand,  overheard  a  soap-boiler  contriving  with 


Jack  Oeet.        P.  164. 


JACK    OVET.  167 

a  carrier  how  he  should  send  a  hundred  pounds  to  a 
friend  in  the  country.  At  length,  it  was  concluded 
upon  to  put  the  money  into  a  barrel  of  soap ;  which 
project  was  mightily  approved  of  by  the  carrier,  who 
answered,  "  If  any  rogues  should  rob  my  wagon, 
(which  they  never  did  but  once,)  the  devil  must  be  in 
them  if  they  look  for  any  money  in  the  soap-barrel." 
Accordingly,  the  money  and  soap  were  brought  to  the 
inn,  and  next  morning  the  carrier  going  out  of  town, 
Jack  overtook  him  in  the  afternoon,  and  commanding 
him  to  stop,  or  otherwise  he  would  shoot  him  and  his 
horses  too,  he  was  obliged  to  obey  the  word  of  com- 
mand. Then  cried  the  honest  highwayman,  "  I  must 
make  bold  to  borrow  a  little  money  out  of  your  wagon ; 
therefore,  if  you  have  any,  direct  me  to  it,  that  I  may 
not  lose  any  time,  which  you  know  is  always  pre- 
cious." The  carrier  told  him,  he  had  nothing  but 
cumbersome  goods  in  his  wagon,  that  he  knew  of; 
however,  if  he  would  not  believe  him,  he  might  search 
every  box  and  bundle  there,  if  he  pleased. 

Ovet  soon  got  into  the  wagon,  and  threw  all  the 
boxes  and  bundles  about,  till,  at  last,  he  came  to  the 
soap-barrel,  which  feeling  somewhat  heavy,  said  he  to 
the  carrier,  "  What  do  you  do  with  this  nasty  commo- 
dity in  your  wagon  ?  I  '11  fling  it  away."  So  throw- 
ing it  on  the  ground,  the  hoops  burst,  out  flew  the  head, 
and  the  soap  spreading  abroad,  the  bag  appeared : 
then  jumping  out  of  the  wagon  and  taking  it  up,  said 
he  again,  "  Is  not  he  that  sells  this  soap  a  cheating  ras- 
cal, to  put  a  bag  of  lead  into  it  to  make  the  barrel  weigh 
heavy?  If  I  knew  where  he  lived,  I  'd  go  and  tell  him 
my  mind.  However,  that  he  may  not  succeed  in  his 
roguery,  I  '11  take  it  and  sell  it  at  the  next  house  I 
come  to,  for  it  will  wet  one's  whistle  to  the  tune  of  two 
or  three  shillings." 

He  was  going  to  ride  away,  when  the  carrier  cried 
after  him,  "  Hold,  hold,  sir  !  that  is  not  lead  in  the 
bag ;  it  is  a  hundred  pounds,  for  which  (if  you  take  it 
away)  I  must  be  accountable."  "No,  no!"  replied 
Jack  Ovet,  "  this  cannot  be  money ;  but  if  it  is,  tell  the 


168  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

owner  that  I  will  be  answerable  for  it  if  he  will  come 
tome."  "Where,  sir,"  said  the  carrier,  "may  one 
find  you?"  "Why,  truly,"  replied  Jack,  "that  is  a 
question  soon  asked,  but  not  so  easily  to  be  answered ; 
the  best  direction  1  can  give  is,  it  is  likely  that  you 
may  find  me  in  a  gaol  before  night,  and  then,  perhaps, 
you  may  have  again  what  I  have  taken  from  you,  and 
forty  pounds  to  boot." 

Another  time  Jack  Ovet,  meeting  with  the  Worcester 
stage-coach  on  the  road,  in  which  were  several  young 
gentlewomen,  he  robbed  them  all;  but  one  of  them 
being  a  very  handsome  person,  he  was  struck  with 
admiration,  and  when  he  took  her  money  from  her, 
said,  "  Madam,  cast  not  your  eyes  down,  neither  cover 
your  face  with  those  modest  blushes ;  your  charms 
have  softened  my  temper,  and  I  am  no  longer  the  man 
I  was ;  what  I  have  taken  from  you  (through  mere 
necessity  at  present)  is  only  borrowed ;  for  as  no  object 
on  earth  ever  had  such  an  effect  on  me  as  you,  assure 
yourself,  that,  if  you  please  to  tell  me  where  I  may 
direct  to  you,  I  will,  upon  honor,  make  good  your  loss 
to  the  very  utmost."  The  young  gentlewoman  told 
him  where  he  might  send  to  her ;  and  then  parting,  it 
was  not  above  a  week  after  that  Jack  sent  a  letter  to 
the  young  lady,  who  had  gained  such  an  absolute  con- 
quest over  his  soul  that  his  mind  now  ran  as  much 
upon  love  as  robbery. 

Unfortunately,  however,  the  sentimental  attachment 
of  our  too  susceptible  highwayman  was  doomed  to  suf- 
fer a  defeat ;  and  still  more  unfortunately,  he  was  quite 
as  unsuccessful  in  his  profession;  for,  committing  a 
robbery  in  Leicestershire,  where  his  comrade  was  killed 
m  the  attempt,  he  was  closely  pursued  by  the  county, 
apprehended,  and  sent  to  gaol ;  and  at  the  next  Leices- 
ter assizes  condemned.  Whilst  under  sentence  of 
death,  he  seemed  to  feel  no  remorse  at  all  for  his  wick- 
edness, nor  in  the  least  to  repent  of  the  blood  of  two 
persons,  which  he  had  shed.  So  being  brought  to  the 
gallows,  on  Wednesday  the  fifth  of  May,  1708,  he  was 
mstly  hanged,  in  the  thirty-second  year  of  his  age. 


169 


TOM   DORBEL. 

This  robber  was  bred  a  glover ;  but  before  he  had 
served  one  half  of  his  time,  ran  off  from  his  master, 
and  coming  to  London,  soon  became  acquainted  with 
men  of  dispositions  similar  to  his  own.  About  the  age 
of  seventeen,  Tom  ventured  to  appear  upon  the  high- 
way, but  was  outwitted  in  his  first  attempt. 

Meeting  a  Welshman,  he  demanded  Taffy's  money, 
or  he  would  take  his  life.  The  Welshman  said,  "  Hur 
has  no  money  of  hur  own,  but  has  threescore  pounds 
of  hur  master's  money ;  but,  Cot's  blood  !  hur  must  not 
give  hur  master's  money, — what  would  hur  master 
then  say  for  hur  doing  so  ?"  Tom  replied,  "  You  must 
not  put  me  off  with  your  cant;  for  money  I  want,  and 
money  I  will  have,  let  it  be  whose  it  will,  or  expect  to 
be  shot  through  the  head."  The  Welshman  then  deli- 
vered the  money,  saying,  "  What  hur  gives  you  is  none 
of  hur  own ;  and  that  hur  master  may  not  think  hur 
has  spent  hur  money,  hur  requests  you  to  be  so  kind 
as  to  shoot  some  holes  through  hur  coat-lappets,  that 
hur  master  may  see  hur  was  robbed."  So  suspending 
his  coat  upon  a  tree,  Tom  fired  his  pistol  through  it, 
Taffy  exclaiming,  "  Gots  splatter  a-nails  !  this  is  a  pret- 
ty pounce  ;  pray  give  hur  another  pounce  for  hur  mo- 
ney !"  Tom  fired  another  shot  through  his  coat.  "  By 
St.  Davy,  this  is  a  better  pounce  than  the  other !  pray 
give  hur  one  pounce  more  !"  t  "I  have  never  another 
pounce  left,"  cried  Tom.  "Why  then,"  replied  the 
Welshman,  "hur  has  one  pounce  left  for  hur,  and  if 
hur  will  not  give  hur  hur  money  again,  hur  will 
pounce  hur  through  hur  body."  Dorbel  very  reluc- 
tantly but  quietly  returned  the  money,  and  was  thank- 
ful that  he  was  allowed  to  depart. 

But  this  narrow  escape  did  not  deter  Dorbel,  and  ho 
O 


170  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

continued  his  villanies  for  the  space  of  five  years.  It 
happened,  however,  that  a  gentleman's  son  was  taken 
fur  robbing  on  the  highway,  and  as  he  had  been  for- 
merly pardoned,  he  now  despaired  of  obtaining  mercy 
a  second  time.  Tom  undertook,  for  the  sum  of  five 
hundred  pounds,  to  bring  him  off.  The  one  half  was 
paid  in  hand,  and  the  other  half  was  to  be  paid  imme- 
diately the  deliverance  was  effected.  When  the  young 
gentleman  came  upon  his  trial,  he  was  found  guilty ; 
but  just  as  the  judge  was  about  to  pass  sentence,  Tom 
cried  out,  u  Oh  !  what  a  sad  thing  it  is  to  shed  innocent 
blood !  Oh !  what  a  sad  thing  it  is  to  shed  innocent 
blood !"  And  continuing  to  reiterate  the  expression, 
he  was  apprehended,  and  the  judge  interrogating  him 
what  he  meant  by  such  an  expression,  he  said,  "  May 
it  please  your  lordship,  it  is  a  very  hard  thing  for  a 
man  to  die  wrongfully ;  but  one  may  see  how  hard- 
mouthed  some  people  are,  by  the  witnesses  swearing 
that  this  gentleman  now  at  the  bar  robbed  them  on  the 
highway  at  such  a  time,  when  indeed,  my  lord,  1  was 
the  person  that  committed  that  robbery." 

Accordingly.  Tom  was  taken  into  custody,  and  the 
young  gentleman  liberated.  He  was  brought  to  trial 
at  the  following  assizes ;  and  being  asked,  whether  he 
was  guilty  or  not,  he  pleaded,  not  guilty  !  "  Not 
guilty!"  replied  the  judge;  why,  did  not  you  at  the 
last  assizes,  when  I  was  here,  own  yourself  guilty  of 
such  a  robbery  ?"  I  don't  know,"  said  Tom,  "  how 
far  I  was  guilty  then,  but  upon  my  word,  I  am  not 
guilty  now ;  therefore,  if  any  person  can  accuse  me  of 
committing  such  a  robbery,  I  desire  they  may  prove 
the  same."     No  witness  appearing,  he  was  acquitted. 

Tom,  living  at  such  an  extravagant  rate  in  the  pri- 
son, had  scarcely  any  part  of  the  five  hundred  pounds 
remaining  when  he  obtained  his  liberty  ;  therefore,  en- 
deavoring to  recruit  his  funds,  by  robbing  the  duke  of 
Norfolk  near  Salisbury,  his  horse  was  shot,  and  he 
himself  taken,  and  condemned  at  the  next  assizes. 
While  under  sentence,  he  found  a  lawyer  who  engaged, 
for  the  sum  of  fifty  guineas,  to  obtain  his  pardon.     He 


TOM    DORBEL.  171 

accordingly  rode  to  London,  was  successful,  and  just 
arrived  in  time  with  the  pardon,  when  Dorbel  was 
about  to  be  thrown  off, — having  rode  so  hard  that  his 
horse  immediately  dropped  down  dead.  Such,  how- 
ever, was  Tom's  ingratitude,  that  he  refused  to  pay  the 
lawyer,  alleging,  that  any  obligation  given  by  a  man 
under  sentence  of  death  was  not  valid. 

Dorbel  was  so  much  alarmed  upon  his  narrow  escape 
from  a  violent  death,  that  he  resolved  to  abandon  the 
collecting  trade,  and  obtained  a  situation  in  several 
families  as  a  footman.  He  also  served  six  or  seven 
years  with  a  lady  in  Ormond  street,  who  had  a  brother, 
a  merchant  in  Bristol,  whose  only  daughter,  a  girl  six- 
teen years  of  age,  prevailed  upon  her  father  to  allow 
her  to  come  to  London  to  perfect  her  education.  Dor- 
bel being  a  person  in  whom  her  aunt  thought  she  could 
place  unlimited  confidence,  was  sent  to  convey  the 
young  lady  to  London.  In  the  last  stage  he  was  left 
alone  with  her,  when  the  miscreant  first  shockingly 
abused  her,  then  robbed  her  of  her  gold  watch,  diamond 
ring,  jewels  to  the  amount  of  a  hundred  pounds,  and 
cutting  a  hole  in  the  back  of  the  coach,  escaped,  leaving 
the  young  lady  in  a  swoon.  It  was  with  difficulty  she 
recovered,  to  inform  her  relations  how  she  had  been 
treated.  Her  mother  hastened  to  town  to  see  her,  and 
after  speaking  a  few  words  to  her,  the  poor  girl  breath- 
ed her  last.  The  disconsolate  father  soon  after  lost  his 
senses. 

Dorbel  was  pursued  in  different  directions,  and  ap- 
prehended just  after  he  had  robbed  a  gentleman  of 
three  pounds  five  shillings.  He  was  tried,  and  con- 
demned to  be  executed  and  hung  in  chains;  which 
well-merited  sentence  was  put  in  force  against  this 
hardened  villain,  on  the  23d  of  March,  1708. 


172 


DICK  ADAMS. 

The  parents  of  this  worthless  fellow  lived  in  Glou- 
cestershire, and  gave  him  an  education  suited  to  his 
station.  Leaving  the  country,  and  coming  to  London, 
the  abode  of  the  most  distinguished  virtue  as  well  as  of 
the  most  consummate  villany,  he  was  introduced  into 
the  service  of  a  great  duchess  at  St.  James',  and 
stayed  there  for  two  years.  He  was  at  last  dismissed 
for  improper  conduct;  but  while  he  remained  there,  he 
had  obtained  a  general  key  which  opened  the  lodgings 
in  St.  James'.  Accordingly,  he  went  to  a  mercer,  and 
desired  him  to  send,  with  all  speed,  a  parcel  of  the  best 
brocades,  satins,  and  silks,  for  his  duchess,  that  she 
might  select  some  for  an  approaching  drawing-room. 
Having  often  gone  on  a  similar  errand,  the  mercer  in- 
stantly complied.  His  servant,  and  a  porter  to  carry 
the  parcels,  accompanied  Dick,  and  when  arrived  at 
the  gate  of  some  of  the  lodgings,  he  said,  "  Let 's  see 
the  pieces  at  once,  for  my  duchess  is  just  now  at  leisure 
to  look  at  them."  So  receiving  the  parcel,  he  conveyed 
it  down  a  tack  stair,  and  went  clear  off.  After  waiting 
with  great  impatience  for  two  or  three  hours,  the  porter 
and  the  man  returned  home,  much  lighter  than  when 
they  came  out. 

About  a  month  after,  one  evening  when  Dick  had 
been  taking  his  glass  pretty  freely,  he  unfortunately 
came  by  the  mercer's  shop,  while  the  mercer  was 
standing  at  the  door ;  the  latter  recollected  and  instantly 
seized  him,  saying,  "  Oh  sir,  have  I  caught  you  !  you 
are  a  fine  spark  indeed !  to  cheat  me  out  of  two  hun- 
dred pounds'  worth  of  goods !  but  before  I  part  with 
you,  I  shall  make  you  pay  dearly  for  them !"  Adams 
was  not  a   little  surprised  at   being  so  unexpectedly 


DICK    ADAMS.  173 

taken;  but  instantly  seeing  the  bishop  of  London  com- 
ing up  in  his  carriage,  he  said  to  the  mercer,  "  I  must 
acknowledge  that  I  have  committed  a  crime  to  which  I 
was  forced  by  extreme  necessity ;  but  I  see  my  uncle, 
the  bishop  of  London,  coming  this  way  in  his  coach ; 
therefore,  I  hope  that  you  '11  be  so  civil  as  not  to  raise 
any  hubbub  of  a  mob  about  me,  by  which  I  should  be 
exposed  and  utterly  undone  :  I  '11  go  speak  to  his  lord- 
ship about  the  matter,  if  you  please  to  step  with  me ; 
and  I  '11  engage  he  shall  make  you  satisfaction  for  the 
damage  I  have  done  you." 

The  mercer,  eager  to  receive  his  money,  and  deeming 
this  proposal  a  better  method  than  sending  him  to  gaol, 
consented.  Adams  went  boldly  up,  and  desiring  the 
coachman  to  stop,  requested  a  few  words  of  his  lord- 
ship. Seeing  him  in  the  dress  of  a  gentleman,  he  was 
pleased  to  listen  to  him,  upon  which  Adams  said, 
"  Begging  your  lordship's  pardon  for  my  presumption, 
I  make  bold  to  acquaint  your  reverence  that  the  gen- 
tleman standing  behind  me  is  an  eminent  mercer,  keep- 
ing house  hard  by,  and  is  a  very  upright,  godly  man  ; 
but  being  a  great  reader  of  books  of  divinity,  especially 
polemical  pieces,  he  has  met  therein  with  some  intri- 
cate cases,  which  very  much  trouble  him,  and  his  con- 
science cannot  be  at  rest  until  his  doubts  and  scruples 
are  cleared  about  them;  I  humbly  beg,  therefore,  that 
your  lordship  would  vouchsafe  him  the  honor  of  giving 
him  some  ease  before  he  runs  utterly  to  despair." 

The  bishop,  always  ready  to  assist  any  person  trou- 
bled with  scruples  of  conscience,  requested  Adams  to 
bring  his  friend  to  him  the  following  day:  "  But,"  said 
Adams,  deferentially,  "  it  will  be  more  satisfactory  to 
the  poor  man,  if  your  lordship  will  speak  to  him  your- 
self." Upon  which  the  bishop  bowing  to  the  mercer, 
the  latter  approached  the  coach,  when  the  bishop  said, 
"  The  gentleman  has  informed  me  of  all  the  matter 
about  you,  and  if  you  please  to  give  yourself  the  trou- 
ble of  coming  to  my  house  at  Fulham,  I  will  satisfy 
you  in  every  point."     The  mercer  made  many  grateful 


174  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

bows,  and  taking  Adams  to  a  tavern,  gave  him  a  good 
entertainment. 

The  next  morning  Adams  waited  upon  the  mercer, 
who  was  making  out  his  bill  to  present  to  the  bishop, 
and  pretending  that  his  coming  in  haste  to  attend  him 
to  the  bishop's  house  had  made  him  forget  to  bring 
money  with  him,  entreated  that  he  would  grant  him 
the  loan  of  a  guinea,  and  put  it  down  in  the  bill.  They 
then  went  off  to  wait  upon  the  bishop  at  the  time  ap- 
pointed. After  being  regaled  in  the  parlor  with  a  bottle 
of  wine,  the  mercer  was  introduced  to  the  bishop,  who 
addressed  him,  saying,  "  I  understand  that  you  have 
been  greatly  troubled  of  late ;  I  hope  that  you  are  better 
now,  sir  ?"  The  mercer  answered,  "  My  trouble  is 
much  abated,  since  your  lordship  has  been  pleased  to 
order  me  to  wait  upon  you."  So  pulling  out  his 
pocket-book,  he  presented  his  lordship  with  a  bill  con- 
taining several  articles,  including  a  guinea  of  borrowed 
money,  amounting  in  all  to  two  hundred  and  three 
pounds  nineteen  shillings  and  tenpence. 

His  lordship,  staring  upon  the  bill,  and  examining 
its  contents,  said,  "What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this? 
The  gentleman  last  night  might  very  well  say  your 
conscience  could  not  be  at  rest,  and  I  wonder  why  it 
should,  when  you  bring  a  bill  to  me  of  which  I  know 
nothing."  "  Your  lordship,"  said  the  mercer,  bowing 
and  scraping,  "  was  pleased  last  night  to  say,  that  you 
would  satisfy  me  to-day."  "  Yes,"  replied  the  prelate, 
"  and  so  I  would  with  respect  to  what  the  gentleman 
told  me ;  who  said  that  you,  being  much  troubled  about 
some  points  of  religion,  desired  to  be  resolved  therein, 
and,  in  order  thereto,  I  appointed  you  to  come  to-day." 
"Truly,  your  lordship's  nephew  told  me  otherwise; 
for  he  said  you  would  pay  me  this  bill  of  parcels,  which, 
upon  my  word,  he  had  of  me,  and  in  a  very  clandestine 
manner  too,  if  I  were  to  tell  your  lordship  all  the  truth: 
but  out  of  respect  to  your  honor,  I  will  not  disgrace 
your  nephew."  "  My  nephew !  he  is  none  of  my 
nephew  !  I  never,  to  my  knowledge,  saw  the  gentle- 
man in  my  life  before !" 


DICK    ADAMS.  175 

Dick  not  long  after  went  into  the  life-guards,  but  as 
his  pay  would  not  support  his  extravagance,  he  some- 
times collected  upon  the  highway.  Along  with  some 
of  his  companions* upon  the  road,  they  robbed  a  gentle- 
man of  a  gold  watch  and  a  purse  of  a  hundred  and 
eight  pounds.  Not  content  with  his  booty.  Adams 
went  after  the  gentleman,  saying,  "  Sir,  you  have  got 
a  very  fine  coat  on  ;  I  must  make  bold  to  exchange 
with  you."  As  the  gentleman  rode  along,  he  thought 
he  heard  something  making  a  noise  in  his  pocket,  and 
examining  it,  to  his  great  joy  he  found  his  watch  and 
all  his  money,  which  Adams  in  his  hurry  had  forgot  to 
remove  out  of  the  pocket  of  his  own  coat  when  he  ex- 
changed with  the  gentleman.  But  when  Adams  and 
his  associates  came  to  an  inn,  and  sat  down  to  examine 
their  booty,  to  their  unspeakable  chagrin  they  found 
that  all  was  gone. 

Adams  and  his  companions  went  out  that  very  same 
day  to  repair  their  loss,  and  attacked  the  stage-coach, 
in  which  were  several  women,  with  whom,  irritated  by 
their  recent  misfortune,  they  were  very  rough  and 
urgent.  While  Dick  was  searching  the  pockets  of  one 
of  the  women,  she  said,  "  Have  you  no  pity  or  compas- 
sion on  our  sex?  Certainly,  you  have  neither  Chris- 
tianity, nor  conscience,  nor  religion,  in  you  !"  "  Right, 
we  have  not  much  Christianity  nor  conscience  in  us : 
but,  for  my  part,  you  shall  presently  find  a  little  reli- 
gion in  me."  So  falling  next  upon  her  jewels  and  ear- 
rings, "Indeed,  madam,"  exclaimed  Adams,  "sup- 
posing you  to  be  an  Egyptian,  I  must  beg  the  favor  of 
you,  being  a  Jew,  to  borrow  your  jewels  and  ear-rings, 
according  as  my  forefathers  were  commanded  by 
Moses;"  and  having  robbed  the  ladies  to  the  amount 
of  two  hundred  pounds  in  money  and  goods,  allowed 
them  to  proceed.  After  a  course  of  depredations.  Dick, 
in  robbing  a  man  between  London  and  Brentford,  was 
so  closely  pursued  by  the  person  who  was  robbed,  and 
a  neighbor  whom  he  fortunately  met  upon  the  road, 
that  in  a  little  time  afterwards  he  was  apprehended, 
carried   before  a  magistrate,  committed   to  Newgate, 


176  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

tried,  condemned,  and  executed,  in  March  1713. 
Though  rude  and  profligate  before,  he  was  penitent 
and  devout  after  receiving  his  sentence. 


WILLIAM  GETT1NGS. 

William's  father  was  a  grazier  in  Herefordshire; 
and  he  lived  with  him  until  he  was  sixteen  years  old, 
and  then  came  up  to  London.  Sometimes  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  a  footman,  and  sometimes  in  that  of  a  butler, 
he  spent  five  years  in  a  very  irreproachable  manner. 
Unfortunately,  however,  he  became  acquainted  with 
evil  company,  was  soon  corrupted  in  principles,  and 
became  a  rogue  in  practice. 

He  began  his  course  under  the  name  of  William 
Smith,  and  traded  in  the  smaller  matter  of  pilfering.  In 
the  dress  of  a  porter  he  one  evening  went  into  the  house 
of  a  doctor  of  medicine,  took  down  a  rich  bed,  and 
packed  it  up.  In  carrying  it  off  he  fell  down  stairs, 
and  had  almost  broken  his  neck.  The  noise  alarming 
the  old  doctor  and  his  son,  they  came  running  to  see 
what  was  the  matter;  whereupon  Gettings,  puffing  and 
blowing  as  if  he  was  quite  out  of  breath,  perceiving 
them  nearer  than  they  should  be,  said  to  the  doctor, 
"  Is  not  your  name  so  and  so?" — "Yes,"  replied  the 
doctor;  "  and  what  then?" — "Why,  then,  sir,"  said 
Gettings,  "  there's  one  Mr.  Hugh  Hen  and Penhenribus 
has  ordered  me  to  bring  these  goods  hither  (which  have 
almost  broken  my  back,)  and  carry  them  away  to  a 
new  lodging,  which  he  has  taken  somewhere  herea- 
bouts."— "  Mr.  Hugh  Hen  and  Penhenribus  !"  replied 
the  doctor  again :  "  pray,  who  's  he  1  for,  to  the  best  of 
my  knowledge,  I  do  n't  know  such  a  gentleman." — "  1 
can't  tell,"  said  Gettings,  "but,  indeed,  the  gentleman 
knows  you,  and  ordered  me  to  leave  the  goods  here." 
u  1  do  n't  care,"  said  the  doctor,  "  how  well  he  knows 


William  Gettings  robs  a  Gentleman  in  his  own  Garden.        P.  176. 


WILLIAM   SETTINGS.  179 

me  !  I  tell  you  I  'II  not  take  the  people's  goods,  unless 
they  were  here  themselves;  therefore,  I  say,  carry 
them  away  !" — "  Nay,  pray  sir,"  said  Gettings,  "  let 
me  leave  the  goods  here,  for  I  am  quite  weary  already 
in  bringing  them  hither." — "  I  tell  you,"  replied  the 
doctor,  "  there  shall  none  be  left  here ;  therefore  take 
them  away,  or  I  '11  throw  them  into  the  street!" — 
"  Well,  well,"  said  Gettings,  "  I  '11  take  the  goods  away 
then ;  out  I  'm  sure  the  gentleman  will  be  very  angry, 
because  he  ordered  me  to  leave  them  here." — "I  don't 
care,"  replied  the  doctor,  "for  his  anger,  nor  your's 
either  !  I  tell  you,  I  '11  take  no  charge  of  other  people's 
goods,  unless  they  are  here  themselves  to  put  them  into 
my  custody  !" — "  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Gettings,  "  since 
I  must  carry  them  away,  I  beg  the  favor  of  you  and 
the  gentleman  there  to  lift  them  on  my  back." — "Ay, 
ay,  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  the  doctor.  "Come, 
son,  and  lend  a  hand  to  lift  them  on  the  fellow's  back." 

Scarcely  was  William  gone,  when  the  doctor's  wife 
coming  home  from  the  market,  and  going  into  the  room, 
saw  the  bed  taken  down,  and  came  running  in  a  great 
passion  to  her  husband,  exclaiming,  "Why,  truly,  this  is 
a  most  strange  business,  that  I  can  never  stir  out  of  doors, 
but  you  must  be  making  some  whimsical  alteration  or 
other  in  the  house  !" — "  What 's  the  matter,"  replied 
the  doctor,  "  with  the  woman  ?  Are  you  beside  your- 
self?"— "No,"  said  the  wife,  "but  truly  you  are,  in 
thus  altering  things  as  you  do,  almost  every  moment !" 
"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  you  must 
have  been  spending  your  market-penny,  or  else  you 
would  not  talk  at  this  rate,  as  you  do,  of  alterations, 
when  not  the  smallest  have  been  made  since  you  have 
gone  out." — "I  am  not  blind,  I  think,"  retorted  the 
wife,  "  for  I  am  sure  the  bed  is  taken  out  of  the  two- 
pair-of-stairs  back  room ;  and  pray,  husband,  where  do 
you  design  to  put  it  now?"  The  doctor  and  his  son 
then  went  up-stairs,  and  not  only  found  that  the  bed 
was  stolen,  but  that  they  had  assisted  the  thief  to  carry 
it  off. 

Our  hero  next  resolved  to  try  his  fortune  upon  the 


180  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

highway,  and  meeting  with  a  sharper  on  the  road, 
commanded  him  to  "  stand  and  deliver  !"  He  robbed 
him  of  two  pence  half-penny,  when  the  sharper  re- 
marked, that  "  the  world  was  come  indeed  to  a  very 
sad  pass,  when  one  rogue  must  prey  upon  another." 

He  next  robbed  a  man  of  twelve  shillings  and  a  pair 
of  silver  buckles.  From  thence  he  proceeded  to  rifle  a 
stage-coach,  and  took  away  some  money  and  a  silver 
watch.  Not  long  after,  he  robbed  Mr.  Dash  wood  and 
his  lady  of  a  gold  watch  and  money. 

These,  however,  were  only  smaller  exhibitions  of 
his  dexterity.  One  evening,  well  mounted,  he  passed 
through  Richmond,  and  perceiving  a  gentleman  walk- 
ing in  his  gardens,  inquired  of  the  gardener  if  he  might 
be  permitted  to  view  the  gardens,  of  which  he  had 
heard  so  much. 

The  gardener,  well  acquainted  with  the  harmless 
vanity  and  benevolence  of  his  master,  granted  his 
request.  Giving  his  horse  to  the  gardener,  Gettings 
walked  forward,  and  in  a  very  respectful  manner 
accosted  the  gentleman,  who  received  him  very  cour- 
teously; when,  sitting  down  together  in  an  arbor,  Get- 
tings said,  "  Your  worship  has  got  a  fine  diamond  ring 
upon  your  finger." — "  Yes,"  replied  the  owner,  "  it 
ought  to  be  a  very  fine  one,  for  it  cost  me  a  very  fine 
price." — "  Why,  then,"  said  Gettings,  "  it  is  the  fitter 
to  bestow  on  a  friend ;  therefore,  if  your  worship 
pleases,  I  must  make  bold  to  take  it  and  wear  it  for 
your  sake."  The  gentleman  stared  at  his  impudence, 
but  Gettings  presenting  a  pistol,  made  a  short  process 
of  the  matter.  Having  taken  the  ring,  the  villain 
added,  "  1  am  sure  you  do  not  go  without  a  good  watch 
too."  Making  free  with  that  also,  and  some  guineas, 
he  bound  the  gentleman,  and  went  off  with  his  booty, 
after  requesting  him  to  be  patient,  and  he  would  send 
some  person  to  set  him  at  liberty.  When  he  came  to 
the  gate,  he  gave  the  gardener  a  shilling,  informing  him 
that  Sir  James  wanted  to  speak  to  him.  The  botanical 
retainer  accordingly  went  and  untied  his  master,  who 


M.t>    BONNET.  lb  J 

with  a  grim  smile  returned  him  thanks  for  sending  a 
man  into  his  own  garden  to  rob  him. 

Upon  another  day,  Gettings  undertook  a  long  jour- 
ney, for  the  express  purpose  of  robbing  the  house  of  a 
friend  ;  and  being  well  acquainted  with  all  parts  of  the 
house,  was  successful,  and  brought  off  money,  plate, 
and  goods,  to  a  considerable  amount.  He  at  last,  in  an 
unlucky  moment,  robbed  a  Mr.  Harrison  of  four 
guineas,  some  silver,  and  a  watch ;  and  being  detected, 
was  tried,  condemned,  and  executed,  on  the  25th  Sep- 
tember, 1713,  in  the  twenty-second  year  of  his  age. 


NED  BONNET. 


Edward  Bonnet  was  born  of  respectable  parents  in 
the  isle  of  Ely,  in  Cambridgeshire,  received  an  educa- 
tion superior  to  many  of  his  companions,  and  when  he 
was  only  ten  years  old,  gave  the  following  proof  of  his 
promising  genius.  He  was  sent  to  the  parson  with  the 
present  of  a  sparerib  of  pork,  wrapped  up  in  a  cloth  in 
a  basket.  Ned  knocked  with  some  degree  of  impor- 
tance at  the  door,  which  a  servant  answered,  inquiring 
his  business.  "  I  want  to  speak  with  your  master." 
The  master  came.  "  Well,  my  dear,  what  is  your 
business?"  "  Why,  only  my  father  has  sent  you  this," 
said  young  Ned;  and  gave  him  the  basket,  without 
moving  his  hat.  "  O  fie  !  fie !  child,  have  you  no 
manners  ?  you  should  pull  off  your  hat,  and  say, — Sir, 
my  father  gives  his  service  to  you,  and  desires  you  to 
accept  this  small  token.  Come,  go  you  out  again  with 
the  basket,  and  knock  at  the  door,  and  I  '11  let  you  in, 
and  see  how  prettily  you  can  perform  it."  The  parson 
waited  within  until  his  impatience  to  receive  and  ex- 
amine the  contents  of  the  basket  incited  *him  to  open 
the  door.     But  Ned  was  at  a  considerable  distance, 

P 


182  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

walking  off  with  the  present.  "  So  ho  !  so  ho,  sirrah  ! 
where  are  you  going?"  "  Home,  sir,"  replied  Ned,  in 
an  equally  loud  voice.  "Hey,  but  you  must  come 
back  and  do  as  I  bade  you  first."  "  Thank  you  for 
that,  sir,  I  know  better  than  that ;  and  if  you  teach  me 
manners,  I  '11  teach  you  wit."  The  father  smiled  at  the 
story,  and  retained  his  sparerib. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen,  Bonnet  was  sent  apprentice  to 
a  grocer,  served  his  time  with  credit,  was  afterwards 
married  to  a  young  woman  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
continued  in  business  until  he  had  acquired  about  six 
hundred  pounds.  Unfortunately,  however,  he  was  re- 
duced to  poverty  by  an  accidental  fire.  Unable  to 
answer  the  pressing  demands  of  his  creditors,  he  left 
the  place,  and  came  up  to  London.  Here  he  soon 
became  acquainted  with  a  band  of  highwaymen,  and 
began  with  them  to  seek  from  the  highway  what  had 
been  lost  by  fire. 

Nor  did  he  long  continue  in  the  inferior  walks  of  his 
new  profession,  but  providing  himself  with  a  horse 
which  he  taught  to  leap  over  ditch,  hedge,  or  toll-bar, 
and  to  know  all  the  roads  in  the  country,  whether  by 
day  or  by  night,  he  quickly  became  the  terror  of  Cam- 
bridgeshire. 

Upon  this  horse,  he  one  day  met  a  Cantabrigian, 
who  was  possessed  of  more  money  than  good  sense, 
morality,  or  wit,  in  a  calash  with  a  dashing  courtesan. 
Ned  commanded  the  student  to  "stand  and  deliver." 
Unwilling  to  show  his  cowardice  before  his  companion, 
he  refused.  Without  any  respect  for  the  venerable 
university  to  which  he  belonged,  Ned  by  violence  took 
from  him  about  six  pounds,  and  presenting  a  pair  of 
pistols,  constrained  the  hopeful  pair  to  strip  themselves, 
then  bound  them  together,  and  giving  the  horse  a  lash- 
ing, the  animal  went  off  at  full  trot  with  them  to  the 
inn  to  which  he  belonged.  But  no  sooner  did  these 
Adamites  enter  the  town,  than  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, came  hallooing,  shouting,  and  collecting  the 
whole  town  to  behold  such  an  uncommon  spectacle. 
The  student  was  expelled   for  disgracing  the  univer- 


NED    BONNET.  183 

sity,  and  the  courtesan  was  sent  to  the  house  of  cor- 
rection. 

Humorous  Ned  next  met  with  a  tailor  and  his  son, 
who  had  arrested  him  for  five  pounds.  He  command- 
ed him  to  surrender,  and  received  thirty-five  in  place 
of  his  five.  "I  wonder,"  said  the  innwent  son, 
"  what  these  fellows  think  of  themselves  1  Surely  they 
must  go  to  the  place  below  for  committing  these  noto- 
rious actions."  "  God  forbid,"  replied  the  tailor,  "  for 
to  have  the  conversation  of  such  rogues  there,  would 
be  worse  than  all  the  rest." 

Ned's  next  adventure  was  with  an  anabaptist  preach- 
er, whom  he  commanded  to  deliver  up  his  purse  and 
scrip  The  latter  began  by  reasonings,  ejaculations, 
and  texts,  to  avert  the  impending  evil.  Ned  instantly 
put  himself  in  a  great  passion,  and  replied,  "  Pray,  sir, 
keep  your  breath  to  cool  your  porridge,  and  do  n't  talk 
of  religious  matters  to  me,  for  I  '11  have  you  to  know, 
that,  like  all  other  true-bred  gentlemen,  I  believe  no- 
thing at  all  of  religion;  therefore  deliver  me  your 
money,  and  bestow  your  laborious  cant  upon  your 
female  auditors,  who  never  scold  with  their  maids 
without  cudgelling  them  with  broken  pieces  of  scrip- 
ture." Whereupon,  taking  a  watch  and  eight  guineas, 
he  tied  his  legs  under  his  horse,  and  let  him  depart. 

On  another  occasion,  Bonnet  and  a  few  associates 
met  a  nobleman  and  four  servants  in  a  narrow  pass, 
one  side  of  which  was  enclosed  by  a  craggy  and  shatter- 
ed rock,  and  the  other  by  an  almost  impenetrable  wood, 
rising  gradually  considerably  higher  than  the  road, 
and  accosted  them  in  his  usual  style.  The  nobleman 
pretended  that  he  supposed  they  were  only  in  jest,  and 
said,  "  that  if  they  would  accompany  him  to  the  next 
inn,  he  would  give  them  a  handsome  treat."  He  was 
soon  informed  that  they  preferred  the  present  to  the 
future.  A  sharp  dispute  ensued,  but  the  nobleman 
and  his  men  were  conquered ;  and  the  lord  was  robbed 
of  a  purse  of  gold,  a  gold  watch,  a  gold  snurT-box,  and 
a  diamond  ring. 

Being  conducted  into  the  adjacent  wood,  and  bound 


184  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

hand  and  foot,  the  robbers  left  them,  saying,  "  that  they 
would  bring  them  more  company  presently."  Accord- 
ingly, they  were  as  good  as  their  word,  for  in  less  than 
two  hours  they  contrived  to  increase  the  number  to 
twelve,  on  which  Ned  cried,  "  There  are  now  twelve 
of  you,  all  good  men  and  true ;  so  bidding  you  farewell, 
you  may  give  in  your  verdict  against  us  as  you  please, 
when  we  are  gone,  though  it  will  be  none  of  the  best ; 
but  to  give  us  as  little  trouble  as  possible,  we  shall  not 
now  stay  to  challenge  any  of  you.  So,  once  more, 
farewell." 

Ned  Bonnet  and  his  comrades  now  going  to  the  place 
of  rendezvous,  to  make  merry  with  what  they  had  got, 
which  was  at  a  by  sort  of  an  inn  standing  somewhat 
out  of  the  high-road  between  Stamford  and  Grantham, 
it  happened  at  night  to  rain  very  hard,  so  that  one  Mr. 
Randal,  a  pewterer,  living  neir  Marygold  alley  in  the 
Strand,  before  it  was  burnt  down,  was  obliged  to  put 
in  there  for  shelter.  Calling  for  a  pot  of  ale,  on  which 
was  the  innkeeper's  name,  which  was  also  Randal,  the 
pewterer  asked  him,  being  his  namesake,  to  sit  and 
bear  him  company. 

They  had  not  been  long  chatting,  before  Ned  and 
one  of  his  comrades  came  down  stairs  and  placed 
themselves  at  the  same  table ;  and  understanding  the 
name  of  the  stranger,  one  of  the  rogues,  fixing  his  eyes 
more  intently  than  ordinary  upon  him,  in  a  fit  of  seem- 
ing joy  leaped  over  the  table,  and  embracing  the  pew- 
terer, exclaimed,  "  Dear  Mr.  Randal !  who  would  have 
thought  to  have  seen  you  here?  it  is  ten  years,  I  think, 
since  I  had  the  happiness  to  be  acquainted  with  you." 

Whilst  the  pewterer  was  recollecting  whether  he 
could  call  this  spark  to  mind  or  not,  for  it  came  not 
into  his  memory  that  he  had  ever  seen  him  in  his  life, 
the  highwayman  again  cried  out,  "Alas !  Mr.  Randal, 
I  see  now  I  am  much  altered,  since  you  have  forgotten 
me."  Here,  being  arrived  at  a  ne  plus  ultra,  up  started 
Ned,  and  with  as  great  apparent  joy  said  to  his  com- 
panion. "  Is  this,  Harry,  the  honest  gentleman  in  Lon- 
don, whom  you  so  often  used  to  praise  for  his  great  civi- 


NED    BONNET.  185 

lily  and  liberality  to  all  people?  Surely  then  we  are 
very  happy  in  meeting  thus  accidentally  with  him." 

By  this  discourse  they  would  almost  have  persuaded 
Mr.  Randal  that  they  perfectly  knew  him ;  but  being 
sensible  of  the  contrary,  he  very  seriously  assured  them 
that  he  could  not  remember  that  he  had  ever  seen  any 
of  them  in  his  life.  "  No  !"  said  they,  struck  with 
seeming  astonishment;  "it  is-  strange  we  should  be 
altered  so  much  within  these  few  years." 

But  to  evade  further  ill-timed  questions,  the  rogues 
insisted  upon  Mr.  Randal's  supping  with  them,  which 
invitation  he  was  by  no  means  permitted  to  decline. 

By  the  time  they  had  supped,  in  came  four  more  of 
Ned's  comrades,  who  were  invited  also  to  sit  down,  and 
more  provisions  were  called  for,  which  were  quickly 
brought,  and  as  rapidly  devoured. 

When  the  fury  of  consuming  half  a  dozen  good  fowls 
and  other  victuals  was  over,  besides  several  flasks  of 
wine,  there  was  not  less  than  three  pounds  odd  money 
to  pay.  At  this  they  stared  on  each  other,  and  held  a 
profound  silence,  whilst  Mr.  Randal  was  fumbling  in 
his  pocket.  When  they  saw  that  he  only  brought 
forth  a  mouse  from  the  mountain  of  money  the  thieves 
hoped  to  find  piled  in  his  pocket,  which  was  only  as 
much  as  his  share,  he  that  pretended  to  know  him 
started  up,  and  protested  he  should  be  excused  for  old 
acquaintance  sake ;  but  the  pewterer,  not  willing  to  be 
beholden,  as  indeed  they  never  intended  he  should,  to 
such  companions,  lest  for  this  civility  they  should  ex- 
pect greater  obligations  from  him,  pressed  them  to 
accept  his  dividend  of  the  reckoning,  saying,  if  they 
thought  it  equitable  he  would  pay  more. 

At  last  one  of  them,  tipping  the  wink,  said,  "  Come, 
come,  what  needs  all  this  ado?  Let  the  gentleman,  if 
he  so  pleases,  present  us  with  this  small  treat,  and  do 
you  give  him  a  larger  at  his  taking  his  farewell  in  the 
morning."  Mr.  Randal  not  liking  this  proposal,  it  was 
started  that  he  and  Ned  should  throw  dice  to  end  tho 
controversy;  and  fearing  he  had  got  into  ill  company, 
to  avoid  mischief,  Randal   acquiesced  to  throw  a  main 

8 


186  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

who  should  pay  the  whole  shot,  which  was  so  managed 
that,  the  lot  fell  upon  Randal.  By  this  means  Randal, 
having  the  voice  of  the  whole  board  against  hiin,  was 
deputed  to  pay  the  whole  reckoning;  though  the  dis- 
sembling villains  vowed  and  protested  they  had  rather 
it  had  fallen  to  any  of  them,  that  they  might  have  had 
the  honor  of  treating  him. 

Mr.  Randal  concealed  his  discontent  at  these  shirking 
tricks  as  well  as  he  could;  and  they  perceiving  he 
would  not  engage  in  gaming,  but  counterfeited  drowsi- 
ness, and  desired  to  be  abed,  the  company  broke  up, 
and  he  was  shown  to  his  lodgings,  which  he  barrica- 
doed  as  well  as  he  could,  by  putting  old  chairs,  stools, 
and  tables  against  the  door.  Going  to  bed  and  putting 
the  candle  out,  he  fell  asleep;  but  was  soon  awaked  by 
a  strange  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  and  an  out- 
cry of  murder  and  thieves. 

At  this  surprising  noise  he  leaped  out  of  bed,  and  ran 
to  the  door,  to  see  whether  it  was  fast  or  not :  and  find- 
ing nothing  removed,  (for  the  highwaymen  came  into 
his  chamber  by  a  trap-door  which  was  behind  the 
hangings,)  he  wondered  how  the  noise  should  be  there 
in  his  apartment,  unless  it  was  enchanted;  but  as  he 
was  about  to  remove  the  barricade  to  run  and  raise  the 
house,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  crew,  who,  tying  and 
gagging  him,  took  away  all  his  clothes,  and  left  him  to 
shift  for  himself  as  well  as  he  could. 

One  day  having  the  misfortune  to  have  his  horse 
shot  under  him,  Bonnet  embraced  the  first  opportunity 
to  take  a  good  gelding  from  the  grounds  of  the  man 
who  kept  the  Red  Lion  inn.  Being  again  equipped  like 
a  gentleman,  he  rode  into  Cambridgeshire,  and  met 
with  a  gentleman,  who  informed  him  that  he  had  well 
nigh  been  robbed,  and  requested  him  to  ride  along  with 
him  for  protection.  As  a  highwayman  is  never  out  of 
his  way,  he  complied,  and,  at  a  convenient  place,  levied 
a  contribution,  as  protector  of  the  gentleman,  by  empty- 
ing his  pockets  of  eighty  guineas.  He,  however,  had 
the  generosity  to  give  him  half-a-crown  to  carry  him 
to  the  next  town. 


WILL  OGDEN  AND  TOM  REYNOLDS.  187 

After  having,  according  to  computation,  committed 
three  hundred  robberies,  another  thief,  being  appre- 
hended, in  order  to  save  his  own  life,  informed  against 
Bonnet,  who  was  apprehended,  not  upon  the  highway, 
but  in  his  own  lodgings,  and  sent  to  Newgate,  and  at 
the  next  assizes  carried  down  to  Cambridge,  sentenced 
and  executed  before  the  castle,  on  the  28th  March, 
1713,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  county,  which  had  suf- 
fered severely  by  his  depredations. 


WILL  OGDEN  AND  TOM  REYNOLDS. 

The  first  of  these  was  a  waterman,  and  born  in 
Southwark.  The  second  was  a  dung-bargeman,  and 
born  in  Barnaby  street.  Entering  into  company,  they 
robbed  shops  and  ships,  during  the  space  of  two  years, 
with  considerable  success :  they  then  ascended  to  the 
second  degree  of  robbery,  and  broke  several  houses  in 
Southwark.  Associating  themselves  with  another,  they 
broke  into  a  watchmaker's  shop,  and  extracted  twenty- 
six  watches ;  but  the  stranger  becoming  evidence,  our 
two  trusty  friends  were  lodged  in  Newgate,  tried,  and 
condemned,  but  received  a  pardon,  in  consequence  of 
which  they  were  again  let  loose  upon  the  community. 
Ogden  one  evening  met  a  parson  walking  home  under 
the  light  of  the  moon,  and  approached  him  in  the  cha- 
racter of  a  seaman  in  great  poverty  and  distress.  His 
dismal  narrative  excited  the  compassion  of  the  parson, 
who  gave  him  a  sixpence.  The  parson  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  when  Ogden  met  him  again,  and  renewed 
his  request.  "  You  are  the  most  impudent  beggar  that 
ever  I  met  with,"  cried  the  reverend  gentleman.  Og- 
den told  him  that  he  was  in  very  great  want,  and  that 
the  sixpence  he  had  received  would  not  supply  his  ne- 
cessities. He  then  gave  him  half  a  crown.  Ogden 
said,    "  These  are  very  sad  times,  ioi  there  's  horrid 


188  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

robbing  abroad,  therefore,  if  you  have  any  more  money 
about  you,  you  may  as  well  let  me  have  it  as  another, 
who  perhaps  may  abuse  yon,  and  binding  you  hand 
and  foot,  make  you  lie  in  the  cold  all  night ;  but  if 
you  '11  give  me  your  money,  I  '11  take  care  of  you,  and 
conduct  you  very  safely  home." 

The  parson  made  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and  gave 
him  all  his  money,  which  was  about  forty  shillings. 
Ogden  then  said,  "I  see  you  have  a  watch,  sir;  you 
may  as  well  let  me  have  that  too."  The  parson  com- 
plied, and  as  they  were  plodding  along,  two  or  three 
fellows  came  out  upon  them,  to  whom  Ogden  cried, 
"  The  moon  shines  bright,"  and  they  let  them  proceed. 
They  had  only  gone  a  short  way,  when  the  same  scene 
was  repeated,  but  at  last  the  parson  was  brought  safely 
to  his  own  door.  He  requested  his  guide  to  go  in, 
assuring  him  that  he  should  receive  no  injury;  but  the 
latter  declined  his  offer.  The  good  parson  then  brought 
a  bottle  of  wine,  and  drinking  to  Ogden,  gave  him  the 
bottle  and  the  glass  to  help  himself,  upon  which  he  ran 
off  with  both. 

Upon  another  day,  meeting  Beau  Medlicote,  he  was 
commanded  to  "  stand  and  deliver."  The  beau  pre- 
tended to  make  some  resistance  with  his  sword,  but 
pistols  being  produced,  he  was  constrained  to  yield. 
There  were  only  two  half-crowns  found  in  his  pocket, 
and  one  of  them  was  bad.  Upon  this  he  received  a 
complete  caning  for  presuming  to  carry  counterfeit 
money. 

Some  time  after  this,  Ogden  and  Reynolds,  in  com- 
pany with  one  Bradshaw,  the  grandson  of  serjeant 
Bradshaw,  who  condemned  king  Charles  the  First  to 
death,  were  watching  in  a  wood  for  some  booty.  A 
poor  servant  girl  was  returning  home  from  her  service, 
with  a  box  upon  her  head.  Bradshaw  was  deemed  a 
sufficient  match  for  her;  accordingly,  he  alone  rushed 
out  of  the  wood  and  seized  her  box,  in  which  were  her 
clothes  and  fifteen  shillings,  being  all  her  wages  for 
three  months'  service.  When  he  had  broken  up  her 
box  and  was  rifling  it,  there  happening  to  be  a  hammer 


WILL  OGDEN  AND  TOM  REYNOLDS.  189 

in  it,  she  suddenly  seized  the  hammer,  and  gave  him  a 
blow  upon  the  temples,  which  was  followed  by  another 
equally  well  directed,  with  the  claw  of  the  hammer, 
into  his  windpipe,  on  which  the  villain  instantly  ex- 
pired. 

In  a  short  time  a  gentleman  came  up,  to  whom  she 
related  the  whole  adventure ;  he  went  up  to  the  de- 
ceased, and  found  in  his  pockets  eighty  guineas,  with  a 
whistle.  Perceiving  its  use,  he  immediately  whistled, 
when  Ogden  and  Reynolds  in  a  moment  rushed  from 
the  wood ;  but  discovering  that  it  was  a  wrong  person 
who  gave  the  signal,  they  with  equal  speed  ran  back. 
The  gentleman  carried  the  girl  before  a  magistrate, 
became  bail  for  her  appearance ;  and  being  tried,  she 
was  acquitted. 

At  another  time,  these  two  men  met  a  tallyman,  well 
known  for  his  commerce  of  two  kinds  with  the  hawk- 
ers of  St.  Giles'-in-the-Fields.  They  employed  the 
common  phrase  "  Stand  and  deliver  !"  In  a  piteous 
tone  the  victim  entreated  them  to  spare  a  poor  man 
who  was  at  great  pains  to  acquire  his  daily  bread.  In 
a  violent  passion  Ogden  exclaimed,  "Thou  spawn  of 
hell !  have  pity  on  thee  1  No,  sirrah  !  I  know  you  too 
well,"  and  I  would  almost  as  soon  be  kind  to  a  bailiff  or 
an  informing  constable.  A  tallyman  and  a  rogue  are 
terms  cf  similar  import.  Every  Friday  you  set  up  a 
tenter  in  the  Marshalsea  court,  upon  which  you  rack 
and  stretch  poor  prisoners,  like  English  broadcloth,  be- 
yond the  staple  of  the  wool,  till  the  threads  crack, 
which  causes  them  upon  the  least  wet  to  shrink,  and 
presently  wear  threadbare.  I  say  that  you  and  all 
your  calling  are  worse  rogues  than  ever  were  hanged 
at  Tyburn."  After  this  eloquent  harangue,  he  took 
whatever  he  found  upon  him,  stripped  him  naked, 
bound  him  hand  and  foot,  and  left  him  under  a  hedge 
to  ruminate  on  his  former  villanies. 

These  rogues  were  great  cronies  of  Thomas  Jones  and 
John  Richardson,  the  one  butler,  the  other  footman,  to 
a  gentleman  living  at  Eltham.  These  fellows  having 
one  day  robbed  a  gentleman  on  Blackheath,  left  him 


190  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

bound  by  the  roadside.  Their  master  coming  past  a 
few  hours  after,  relieved  the  unfortunate  gentleman, 
took  him  to  his  own  house,  and  gave  him  a  glass  of 
wine  to  recruit  his  spirits.  The  butler  no  sooner  ap- 
peared, than  the  gentleman  knew  him,  and  instantly 
charged  him  with  the  robbery.  His  master  was  asto- 
nished, and  could  scarcely  credit  the  report ;  but  the 
other  describing  the  horse  upon  which  he  rode,  and  the 
person  who  was  along  with  him,  he  found  that  he  was 
one  of  his  footmen.  The  two  servants  being  examined, 
and  acknowledging  the  fact,  were  committed,  tried,  and 
suffered  the  punishment  due  to  their  crimes. 

Ogden  and  Reynolds  continued  their  depredations 
until  justice  at  length  overtook  them,  and  at  Kingston- 
upon-Thames  they  were  sentenced.  They  were  un- 
successful in  attempting  to  break  out  of  the  Stock- 
house  ;  and  such  was  the  indifference  of  Ogden,  that 
when  he  was  going  to  the  place  of  execution,  he  threw 
a  handful  of  money  among  the  crowd,  saying,  "  Gen- 
tlemen, here  is  poor  Will's  farewell." 

They  were  executed  on  the  2d  of  April,  1714. 


JOHN  PRICE. 


The  depravity  of  human  nature  was  exemplified  in 
its  full  extent  in  the  character  of  John  Price.  The 
indigence  and  profligacy  of  his  parents  were  such,  that 
he  received  no  education,  and  he  was  sent  into  the 
world  to  shift  for  himself  at  the  age  of  seven.  Before 
this  period,  he  was  a  proficient  both  in  cursing  and 
lying.  It  is  rather  a  singular  fact,  that  his  habitual 
lying  was  once  a  means  of  saving  his  life. 

About  the  age  of  eighteen  he  was  serving  a  gentle- 
man in  the  country,  who  turned  him  off  for  his  notori- 
ous falsehoods.  In  going  to  London,  he  robbed  a  wo- 
man of  eighteen  shillings,  was  apprehended  in  the  act, 


JOHN    PRICE.  191 

and  convicted ;  but  his  late  master,  who  was  sheriff, 
took  pity  upon  his  situation,  and  saved  his  life.  In- 
formed of  this,  the  judges  at  the  next  assizes  blamed 
the  gentleman's  conduct  for  allowing  a  man  to  escape 
who  had  pleaded  guilty.  The  sheriff  acknowledged 
that  such  a  man  had  been  condemned  at  the  last  as- 
sizes ;  but  then,  he  knew  the  fellow  to  be  such  an  unac- 
countable liar,  that  there  was  no  believing  one  word  he 
said ;  so  his  pleading  guilty  to  what  was  laid  to  his 
charge,  was  in  his  opinion  a  sufficient  reason  for  his  be- 
ing believed  innocent  of  the  fact,  and  he  would  not  hang 
an  innocent  man  for  the  world.  This  reply  made  the 
judges  smile,  and  he  was  dismissed  with  a  severe  repri- 
mand, and  cautioned  not  to  come  before  them  again. 

Upon  obtaining  his  liberty,  Price  went  to  London ; 
associated  with  a  band  of  robbers,  and  in  a  short  time 
was  apprehended  for  diving  into  another  person's  pock- 
et instead  of  his  own,  and  for  that  crime  committed  to 
Newgate.  He  was  accordingly  sentenced  to  a  severe 
whipping,  and  sent  on  board  a  man-of-war ;  but  after 
he  had  received  the  punishment  assigned  to  stealing 
from  the  sailors,  he  was  discharged  from  the  ship. 

He  hastened  again  to  London,  joined  another  asso- 
ciation of  thieves,  and  abandoned  himself  to  all  manner 
of  wickedness.  One  evening  his  gang  divided  them- 
selves into  three  companies.  The  first  met  an  attorney, 
near  Hampstead,  whom  they  robbed  of  eight  guineas. 
The  unfortunate  lawyer  had  not  gone  far  when  he  was 
attacked  by  the  second  party,  to  whom  he  related  his 
misfortunes,  and  into  what  cruel  hands  he  had  fallen. 
"  Cruel !"  said  one  of  them ;  "  how  dare  you  use  these 
terms?  And  who  made  you  so  bold  as  to  talk  to  us 
with  your  hat  on?  Pray,  sir,  be  pleased  henceforward 
to  learn  more  manners."  They  then  snatched  off  his 
hat  and  wig,  and  took  a  diamond  ring  from  his  finger. 
As  he  was  plodding  his  way  home,  uncertain  which 
road  was  safest,  the  third  division  came  up  to  him  near 
Kentish  Town,  bringing  with  them  a  man  whom  they 
pretended  to  have  completely  stripped,  and  constrained 
the  lawyer  to  clothe  the  naked  with  his  own  coat  and 


192  LIVES    OF    HIGHWAYMEN    AND    ROBBERS. 

waistcoat ;  then  told  him  he  might  be  thankful  to  get 
off  with  his  life,  which  he  employed  in  sowing  division 
amongst  society. 

In  a  short  time  after  this,  Price  and  a  companion  one 
evening  entered  a  garret,  in  which  there  was  nothing 
but  lumber,  with  the  intention  of  robbing  the  house 
when  all  was  silent.  But  in  the  dark,  as  Price  was 
laying  his  hand  upon  a  pistol  which  he  had  placed 
upon  a  table,  it  went  off  and  alarmed  the  people  of  the 
house.  His  comrade  instantly  ran  to  the  window, 
where  they  fastened  a  rope  for  their  escape,  and  his 
companion  attempting  to  slide  down,  the  rope  soon 
broke,  though  he  was  not  so  much  injured  but  he  got 
away.  Price  seeing  the  extreme  danger  of  being 
caught,  removed  the  rope  to  another  window,  and  it 
conveyed  him  to  a  balcony.  He  was,  however,  scarce- 
ly there,  when  all  the  people  in  the  house  were  alarm- 
ed ;  on  which  he  leaped  into  a  large  basket  of  eggs 
which  a  man  was  carrying  upon  his  head,  from  New- 
gate market ;  so  that  the  fall  being  broken,  he  was  able 
to  make  his  escape,  amid  the  cry  of  "  thieves  !" 

Jack  now  began  to  be  so  well  known  about  town, 
that  he  found  it  necessary  to  remove  to  the  country. 
He  was  there  most  industrious  in  stripping  the  hedges 
of  all  the  linen  that  he  found  upon  them.  Putting  up 
at  an  inn,  the  landlord  soon  understood  from  his  dis- 
course that  he  was  a  servant  who  would  suit  him,  and 
therefore  hired  him  as  his  tapster.  It  was  this  miscre- 
ant landlord's  custom  to  murder  travellers  who  put  up 
at  his  house ;  but  one  gentleman  being  warned  by  a 
maid  of  his  danger,  provided  for  his  safety. 

Among  other  things  the  maid  informed  him  that  it 
was  usual  for  the  landlord  to  ring  a  bell,  on  which  an 
assassin,  pretending  to  be  a  servant,  entered  the  cham- 
ber and  snuffed  out  the  candle,  when  the  other  villains 
rushed  in  and  murdered  the  stranger.  The  gentleman 
caused  the  maid  to  place  a  lantern  with  a  candle  in  it 
under  a  stool,  and  he  laid  his  arms  ready  and  stood 
upon  his  guard.  Scarcely  had  he  sat  himself  down 
when  it  happened  as  the  girl  had  mentioned :  but  the 


JOHN    PRICE.  193 

gentleman,  with  the  assistance  of  his  servant,  killed 
two  of  the  villians  and  put  the  rest  to  flight.  He  then 
seized  the  innkeeper  and  his  wife,  carried  them  before 
a  magistrate,  and  they  were  indicted  to  stand  trial  at 
the  next  assizes.  From  the  maid's  deposition  it  ap- 
peared that  fourteen  strangers  had  been  murdered  by 
them,  and  that  their  bodies  were  concealed  in  an  arched 
vault  in  the  garden,  to  which  there  was  a  passage  from 
the  cellar.  Both  were  executed,  and  the  innkeeper 
hung  in  chains. 

Jack  having  once  more  escaped  death,  returned  to 
his  pilfering  trade,  was  committed  to  Newgate,  and 
whipped  for  his  crimes.  But  Jack  was  now  determined 
to  follow  the  example  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth, 
and  to  better  his  circumstances  by  marriage.  Accord- 
ingly, he  married  one  of  the  name  of  Betty,  who  gained 
her  livelihood  by  running  errands  to  the  prisoners  of 
Newgate.  Nor  was  Jack,  like  too  many,  disappointed 
in  his  matrimonial  connection,  for  he  was  soon  elevated 
to  be  hangman  to  the  county  of  Middlesex.  In  this 
station  he  assumed  great  importance,  and  held  a  levee 
every  day  that  he  did  business  at  Tyburn ;  but  though 
he  sometimes  ran  in  debt,  yet  he  was  always  very 
willing  to  work  in  order  to  pay  his  obligations.  But 
envy  reached  even  him,  and  he  lost  his  place  by  means 
of  one  who  had  greater  ministerial  interest.  But  Jack 
could  never  be  destitute  while  he  had  hands  and  fin- 
gers to  lay  hold  of  whatever  was  within  his  reach. 

He  at  last  suffered  from  having  assaulted  a  watch- 
man's wife,  whom  he  met  in  Bunhill  Fieids,  and  used 
in  such  a  barbarous  manner  that  she  died  in  a  few 
days  of  her  wounds.  Two  men  suddenly  came  up  to 
him,  and,  being  seized,  he  was  secured  in  Newgate. 
After  his  trial  and  condemnation  he  remained  impeni- 
tent, and  endeavored,  by  intoxication,  to  stifle  the  fore- 
bodings of  conscience.  He  was  hanged  on  the  31st  of 
May,  1718. 

0, 


194 


JACK  SHEPHERD. 

The  father  of  the  celebrated  John  Shepherd  was  a 
carpenter  in  Spitalfields,  of  good  character,  and  ex- 
ceedingly solicitous  to  train  up  his  children  in  the  path 
of  sobriety  and  religion.  They,  however,  afforded  a 
melancholy  proof  that  the  most  virtuous  example, ^find 
the  soundest  principles,  are  frequently  unsuccessful  in 
influencing  the  conduct  of  children.  Two  of  his  sons 
followed  evil  courses,  and  were  convicted  at  the  bar  of 
the  Old  Bailey. 

After  his  father's  death,  young  Shepherd  was  sent  to 
a  school  in  Bishopsgate  street,  where  he  received  the 
rudiments  of  education,  and  was  bound  apprentice  to  a 
cane  chair-maker.  His  master  used  him  well,  and  he 
lived  very  comfortably  with  him  ;  but  this  master  dy- 
ing, he  was  sent  to  another,  who  treated  him  so  very 
harshly  that  he  eloped.  Masters  ought  to  be  cautious 
how  they  conduct  themselves  towards  their  servants, 
because  this  harsh  usage  was  in  all  probability  the 
cause  of  Jack  Shepherd's  ruin,  as  well  as  of  bringing 
great  injury  upon  society.  In  a  short  time,  he  com- 
menced his  depredations,  and,  in  place  of  his  former 
sober  mode  of  life,  his  time  was  spent  in  drinking  all 
day,  and  retiring  to  an  infamous  abode  all  night. 

The  history  of  this  unfortunate  man  adds  another  to 
the  many  examples  already  given  in  this  volume,  that 
the  company  of  profligate  women  has  plunged  men  into 
scenes  of  dissipation  and  vice,  to  which  they  would 
have  been  entire  strangers,  had  it  not  been  for  such 
associates.  He  was  first  enamored  of  one  Elizabeth 
Lion,  a  woman  remarkable  for  her  stature  and  strength. 
Having  separated  from  her,  he  associated  with  one 
who  stimulated  him  to  all  manner  of  pilfering,  in  order 


:ack  shepherd.  195 

that  he  might  be  the  better  able  to  feed  her  extrava- 
gances. 

One  day,  informing  her  that  she  had  received  his  last 
half-crown,  she  instigated  him  to  rob  a  wealthy  pawn- 
broker. Shepherd  left  her  about  one  in  the  morning, 
and  returned  with  goods  to  the  value  of  twenty-two 
pounds.  It  was  not  long  before  the  two  who  had 
planned  the  robbery  exhausted  the  booty. 

The  first  favorite  of  Shepherd  was  committed  to  St. 
Giles'  round-house,  for  some  pilfering  pranks.  Jack 
went  to  see  her,  broke  open  the  doors,  beat  the  keeper, 
and,  set  Bess  Lion  at  liberty.  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  add,  that  this  action  gained  him  great  fame  among 
ladies  of  her  description,  and  stimulated  him  to  more 
daring  acts  of  depredation. 

About  this  period  Jack  supplied  his  brother  with  a 
little  money  to  equip  him  for  the  honorable  profession 
he  himself  followed ;  and  they  broke  into  a  linen  dra- 
per's shop,  from  whence  they  extracted  goods  to  the 
amount  of  fifty  pounds.  The  younger  brother,  how- 
ever, being  rather  a  novice  in  the  art,  was  too  open  in 
the  disposal  of  the  goods,  by  which  means  he  was  de- 
tected, and  his  first  return  for  the  kindness  of  his  bro- 
ther was  to  inform  upon  him  and  several  of  his  confe- 
derates. Jack  Shepherd  was  accordingly  apprehended, 
and  committed  to  the  round-house  for  farther  examina- 
tion. This  place  could  not  long  retain  so  bold  a  spirit, 
and  marching  off,  he  that  very  evening  committed  a 
robbery,  and  vowed  to  be  revenged  upon  Tom  for  his 
ungenerous  conduct. 

Detection  produced  no  reformation.  Jack,  in  com- 
mon with  one  Benson,  attempting  to  steal  a  gentleman's 
watch,  was  discovered  and  committed  to  New  Prison. 
The  first  person  whom  he  discerned  there  was  his  old 
favorite  Bess  Lion,  who  had  been  sent  there  upon  a 
similar  errand.  After  exerting  all  his  cunning  and 
stratagem  in  vain,  Bess  and  he  by  force  escaped,  and 
instantly  repaired  to  her  old  lodgings.  There  he  re- 
mained concealed  for  some  time,  but,  taking  leave  of 
his  friend,  he  again  associated  with  one  Grace  in  rais- 


196  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

ing  contributions.  These  two  villains  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  one  Lamb,  an  apprentice  to  Mr.  Carter, 
they  enticed  him  to  introduce  them  into  his  master's 
house,  from  whence  they  extracted  goods  to  a  consider- 
able amount.  Shepherd  and  Grace,  however,  differed 
in  the  division  of  the  spoil,  and  betrayed  each  other ; 
when  Grace  and  Lamb  were  apprehended.  The  mis- 
fortune of  poor  Lamb,  who  was  so  simply  inveigled, 
excited  the  compassion  of  some  gentlemen,  who  by 
their  exertions  succeeded  in  mitigating  his  sentence  to 
transportation. 

The  confederates  of  Shepherd,  in  order  to  obtain  a 
ready  market  for  their  goods,  employed  one  Field  to 
sell  them,  but  he  being  occasionally  dilatory,  they 
hired  a  warehouse,  and  there  deposited  what  goods 
they  stole.  Field,  displeased  at  being  turned  off  from 
his  lucrative  employment,  importuned  them  to  show 
him  their  stores,  as  he  had  several  orders  for  goods, 
and  could  therefore  dispose  of  them  to  advantage.  He 
was  conducted  to  the  warehouse  pnd  shown  the  goods, 
and  though  he  had  not  the  courage  manfully  to  rob  any 
person,  yet  he  emptied  the  warehouse  of  every  rag  it 
contained. 

In  the  course  of  business,  Shepherd  robbed  a  Mr. 
Kneebone,  and  was  tried  at  the  ensuing  sessions.  He 
appeared  simple  and  almost  foolish  at  his  trial,  alleging, 
as  his  principal  defence,  that  Jonathan  Wild  had  dis- 
posed of  part  of  the  goods,  and  ought  therefore  to  be 
punished  as  well  as  himself.  He  was  however  sen- 
tenced, and  conducted  himself,  in  the  whole  of  his 
defence,  more  like  an  ignorant  and  simple  man,  than 
one  who  was  formed  to  excel  in  his  own  or  any  other 
profession. 

But  necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention.  While  in 
the  condemned  hole,  he  prevailed  upon  one  Fowls,  who 
was  also  under  sentence  of  death,  to  lift  him  up  to  the 
iron  spikes  that  were  over  the  top  of  the  door  which 
looks  into  the  lodge.  By  the  aid  of  a  strong  tall  wo- 
man, and  two  others,  his  head  and  shoulders  were  got 
through,  and  the  whole  of  his  Vdy  following,  he  was 


JACK    SHEPHERD.  197 

bv  them  let  down,  and,  without  the  least  suspicion  of 
the  Keepers,  conveyed  through  the  lodge,  put  into  a 
hackney  coach,  and  out  of  reach  before  the  least  notice 
of  his  escape  could  be  given. 

But  Jack  had  scarcely  breathed  the  fresh  air  when 
he  returned  to  business.  He  associated  with  one  Page, 
a  butcher,  who  dressed  him  in  one  of  his  frocks,  and 
both  betook  themselves  to  the  highway.  They  went 
to  a  watchmaker's  shop,  in  a  daring  manner  broke 
open  one  of  the  glasses,  and  seized  three  watches  before 
the  boy  who  kept  the  shop  could  detect  them.  Upon 
this  occasion  Shepherd  had  the  audacity  to  pass  under 
Newgate. 

But  as  Shepherd  would  not  conceal  himself  nor  give 
over  his  depredations,  he  was  soon  apprehended  and 
again  committed  to  Newgate,  was  put  into  the  stone- 
room,  loaded  with  irons,  and  stapled  down  to  the 
ground.  Being  left  alone,  he  with  a  crooked  nail 
opened  the  lock,  got  free  of  his  chains,  wrought  out 
two  stones  in  the  chimney,  entered  the  red-room, 
where  no  person  resided,  threw  down  the  door,  got 
into  the  chapel,  broke  a  spike  of  the  door,  and  by  it 
opened  four  other  doors,  got  upon  the  roof,  and  from 
thence,  by  the  means  of  his  blanket,  went  in  at  a  gar- 
ret window  belonging  to  an  adjacent  house,  and 
through  that  house  into  the  street. 

The  whole  of  this  almost  incredible  exertion  was 
rendered  the  more  extraordinary  in  that  his  irons  were 
on  all  the  time.  When  at  liberty,  he  went  into  an  ad- 
joining field  and  knocked  them  off;  and,  astonishing  to 
relate,  that  very  evening  robbed  a  pawnbroker's  house, 
where  among  other  things  he  found  a  handsome  suit 
of  black  clothes,  in  which  he  dressed  himself,  and  car- 
ried the  booty  to  two  of  his  female  companions. 

He  now  went  to  visit  his  companions  in  their  scenes 
of  iniquity,  and  drinking  at  a  brandy  shop,  was  disco- 
vered by  a  boy  who  knew  him.  The  boy  had  no 
sooner  recognised  Jack  than  he  ran  to  give  information, 
so  that  he  was  almost  immediately  apprehended  and 
reconducted  to  his  old  quarters  in  Newgate,  amid  a 


198  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

vast  crowd,  who  ran  from  all  parts  to  see  such  an  ex- 
traordinary character ;  but  he  was  so  intoxicated  at  the 
time  that  he  was  scarcely  conscious  of  his  miserable 
situation.  To  prevent  the  possibility  of  a  third  escape, 
they  never  permitted  him  to  be  alone,  and  made  the 
contributions  of  those  who  came  to  see  and  converse 
with  such  a  singular  character  pay  for  their  additional 
trouble. 

He  was  now  the  topic  of  general  conversation,  and 
multitudes,  not  only  of  the  common  ranks  of  society, 
but  many  in  the  more  elevated  ranks  of  life,  flocked  to 
see  him.  In  the  most  ludicrous  and  jocular  manner  he 
related  his  adventures,  exerting  all  his  low  wit  and 
buffoonery  to  amuse  those  who  visited  him,  and  to 
exact  money  from  them.  In  this  manner  were  the  last 
days  of  this  unhappy  mortal  spent,  in  diverting  his 
mind  from  serious  reflection,  and  the  awful  scene  before 
him.  Nor  was  he  even  destitute  of  the  hope  of  pardon, 
from  the  distinguished  persons  who  visited  him,  and 
who  seemed  to  pity  his  misfortune.  But  these  hopes 
were  vain,  and  the  attentions  of  these  persons  proved 
worse  than  useless. 

He  was  removed  to  the  bar  of  the  court  of  the  King's 
Bench,  in  November,  1724,  and  an  affidavit  made  that 
he  was  the  same  John  Shepherd  mentioned  in  the  re- 
cord of  conviction.  Judgment  was  awarded  against 
him,  and  the  day  of  his  execution  fixed.  But  such 
was  his  strong  desire  of  life,  and  his  belief  that  his  re- 
sources would  never  fail  him,  that  he  prepared  a  knife 
to  cut  the  ropes  of  the  cart  which  should  carry  him  to 
Tyburn,  in  hopes  of  running  off  among  the  crowd. 
This  knife  was,  however,  with  no  small  difficulty, 
taken  from  him  by  force.  As  his  last  refuge  to  provide 
against  every  possible  event,  he  employed  a  friend,  to 
whom  he  had  given  all  the  money  he  had  reserved 
from  his  visiters,  to  take  his  body  away  with  all  possi- 
ble haste,  put  it  into  a  warm  bed,  and  draw  a  little 
blood,  thus  to  use  every  possible  means  to  recover 
life.  He  finally  enjoined,  that  if  all  means  should 
prove  unsuccessful,  his  body  should  be  decently  in- 


/ 


Richard  Turpin.        P  201. 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  201 

(erred,  and  the  remainder  of  the  money  given  to  his  poor 
mother. 

He  was  conducted  to  the  place  of  execution  in  a  cart, 
strongly  handcuffed,  when  he  behaved  very  gravely, 
confessed  some  of  the  robberies  laid  to  his  charge,  and 
exculpated  himself  from  others.  His  general  dexterity, 
and  the  various  scenes  through  which  he  had  passed, 
operated  to  excite,  in  no  common  degree,  the  sympathy 
of  the  multitude. 


RICHARD  TURPIN. 

There  never  was,  perhaps,  a  man  in  the  particular 
profession  to  which  this  notorious  fellow  devoted  him- 
self, whose  name  was  more  familiar  in  the  mouths  of 
the  common  people  than  that  of  Richard  Turpin.  But, 
since  it  invariably  happens  that  a  certain  proportion  of 
curiosity  respecting  the  life  and  actions  of  a  man  is 
sure  to  beget  a  corresponding  desire  to  satisfy  it,  we 
cannot  wonder  if  the  perplexed  biographer  should 
sometimes  resort  to  fiction  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of 
fact.  Hence  it  has  happened  that  certain  exploits  have 
been  attributed  to  Turpin  which  do  not  properly  belong 
to  him;  amongst  others,  the  unparalleled  ride  from 
York  to  London  in'  an  unprecedentedly  short  period, 
performed,  it  is  averred,  on  a  single  horseV  We  have 
never  been  able  to  find  any  authentic  account  of  this 
feat,  nor  have  we,  as  yet,  discovered  any  conceivable 
necessity  that  should  compel  him  to  such  a  rapid  jour- 
ney. Turpin  was  never  tried  but  once,  and  that  was, 
indeed,  at  York;  but  the  reader  will  perceive  that  he 
had  no  opportunity  of  escape,  nor  did  he  attempt  any 
thing  of  the  kind  after  his  first  apprehension. 

Richard  Turpin  was  Ihe  son  of  John  Turpin,  of 
Hempstead  in   Essex,   and  was  put  apprentice   to   a 


202  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

butcher  in  Whitechapel,  where  he  served  his  time, 
during  which  period  he  was  frequently  guilty  of  mis- 
demeanors, and  conducted  himself  in  a  loose  and  dis- 
orderly manner. 

As  soon  as  his  time  was  up,  he  married,  and  set  up 
in  business  for  himself  at  Suson  in  Essex,  where,  hav- 
ing no  credit  in  the  market,  and  no  money  in  his  pock- 
et, he  was  shortly  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  maintain- 
ing himself  by  indirect  practices;  and,  accordingly, 
very  often  used  to  rob  the  neighboring  gentry  of  sheep, 
lambs,  and  oxen. 

Upon  one  occasion,  he  stole  a  couple  of  oxen  from  a 
farmer  at  Plaistow,  which  he  caused  to  be  conveyed  to 
his  own  house  and  cut  up.  Two  of  the  men  belonging 
to  the  farm,  having  a  suspicion  of  Turpin,  went  to  his 
house,  and  seeing  an  ox  slaughtered,  were  convinced 
of  his  guilt ;  and  having  traced  the  sale  of  the  hides, 
returned  to  Suson  to  apprehend  him.  Turpin,  apprized 
of  their  intention,  left  them  in  the  front  room,  jumped 
out  of  a  window  and  made  his  escape. 

By  this  time  his  character  had  become  notorious,  and 
he  never  could  entertain  a  thought  of  returning  to  Su- 
son, or  of  following  the  trade  of  a  butcher  in  that  coun- 
ty. He,  accordingly,  resolved  to  commence  smuggler  ; 
and  raising  as  much  money  as  he  could  scrape  together, 
he  betook  himself  to  the  hundreds  of  Essex,  where  he 
soon  became  connected  with  a  gang  of  smugglers. 
This  his  new  profession  he  followed  for  some  time 
with  tolerable  success ;  but  fortune  taking  a  turn,  he 
lost  all  that  h$  had  acquired;  upon  which  he  began  to 
turn  his  thoughts  to  another,  but  by  no  means  more 
honest,  mode  of  life.  In  a  word,  he  connected  himself 
with  a  gang  of  deer-stealers,  who  finding  him  a  despe- 
rate fellow,  and  fit  for  their  purpose,  admitted  him 
among  them.  This  desperate  gang,  afterwards  known 
and  feared  under  the  title  of  the  Essex  Gang,  not  only 
robbed  the  forest  of  deer,  but  thinned  several  gentle- 
men's parks  of  them,  insomuch  that  they  obtained  a 
considerable  sum  of  money.  They  followed  deer-steal- 
ing only  for  some  time ;  but  n3t  finding  the  money 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  203 

come  in  so  quickly  as  they  wished,  and  being  narrowly 
Watched  by  the  park-keepers,  they,  by  Turpin's  direc- 
tion, resolved  to  go  round  the  country  at  nights,  and 
when  they  could  find  a  house  that  had  any  thing  valu- 
able in  it,  one  was  to  knock  at  the  door,  which  being 
opened,  the  rest  should  rush  in  and  plunder  it,  not  only 
of  plate  but  of  household  goods. 

The  first  person  attacked  in  ihis  manner  was  a  Mr. 
Strype,  an  old  man  who  kept  a  chandler's  shop  at 
Watford,  from  whom  they  only  took  the  money  he  had 
by  him ;  but  Turpin  informed  his  companions  that  he 
knew  an  old  woman  at  Loughton,  who,  he  was  certain, 
had  seven  or  eight  hundred  pounds  in  her  possession. 
The  plan  being  declared  feasible,  away  they  went,  and 
coming  to  the  door,  one  of  them  knocked,  and  Turpin 
and  the  rest  of  the  gang  rushed  in.  The  first  thing 
they  did  was  to  blindfold  the  old  lady  and  her  maid. 
Turpin  then  examined  the  former  touching  her  money, 
upon  which  she  declared  that  she  had  none,  being  na- 
turally loth  to  part  with  it.  Some  of  the  gang  were 
inclined  to  believe  her,  but  Turpin,  with  an  oath,  de- 
clared that  if  she  remained  obstinate  he  would  set  her 
on  the  fire.  The  poor  old  lady  imagining  that  this  was 
a  mere  threat,  suffered  herself  to  be  lifted  on  to  the  fire, 
till  the  anguish  she  had  endured  for  a  long  time  com- 
pelled her  to  disclose,  and  the  gang  retired  with  about 
'bur  hundred  pounds. 

They  then  consulted  together  who  should  be  their 
next  victim,  and  agreed  to  wait  upon  a  farmer,  near 
Ripple  Side.  The  people  within  not  answering  the 
door  so  soon  as  they  would  fain  have  had  it  opened, 
they  broke  in,  and  according  to  their  old  custom  tied 
the  old  man,  the  old  woman,  the  servant  maid,  and  the 
farmer's  son-in-law.  They  then  ransacked  the  house, 
and  robbed  the  old  farmer  of  about  seven  hundred 
pounds.  Turpin,  seeing  so  considerable  a  booty,  cried, 
"  Ay,  this  would  do  if  it  were  always  so,"  their  share 
being  about  eighty  pounds  a  man. 

The  success  the  gang  met  with  made  them  resolve  to 
proceed  against  those  who  had  attempted  to  detect  them. 


204  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

They  accordingly  agreed  to  attack  the  house  of  Mason, 
the  keeper  of  Epping  Forest.  The  time  was  fixed 
when  the  house  was  to  be  attacked ;  but  Turpin  having 
still  a  great  deal  of  money  in  his  possession,  could  not 
refrain  from  coming  up  to  London  to  spend  it,  and  get- 
ting drunk,  forgot  the  appointed  time  for  putting  their 
design  into  execution :  however,  the  rest,  resolving  not 
to  be  balked,  set  out  for  Mason's,  after  having  bound 
themselves  by  oath  not  to  leave  one  whole  piece  of 
goods  in  the  house.  Accordingly  they  went,  broke 
open  the  door,  beat  poor  Mason  in  a  cruel  manner,  and 
finally  killed  him  under  the  dresser.  An  old  man  sit- 
ting by  the  fireside,  who  declared  that  he  knew  nothing 
of  them,  got  off  untouched.  After  ransacking  the  lower 
part  of  the  house,  and  doing  much  mischief,  the}'  pro- 
ceeded up-stairs,  and  broke  every  thing  in  their  way ; 
at  last,  espying  a  punch-bowl,  they  broke  that,  when 
out  dropped  a  hundred  and  twenty  guineas,  which  they 
seized  upon  and  made  off  with. 

Turpin,  with  five  others,  in  January,  1735,  came  to 
the  door  of  Mr.  Saunders,  a  wealthy  farmer  at  Charlton 
in  Kent,  and  knocking,  inquired  if  the  gentleman  of 
the  house  was  at  home ;  he  was  answered  he  was,  and 
that  being  the  signal,  they  rushed  in,  and  going  directly 
to  the  parlor,  where  Mr.  Saunders,  his  wife,  and  some 
friends  were  amusing  themselves  at  a  quiet  game  of 
cards,  desired  them  on  no  account  to  be  alarmed,  for 
that  they  would  not  hurt  their  persons,  if  they  sat  still 
and  made  no  disturbance.  A  silver  snuff-box  that  lay 
on  the  table  Turpin  at  once  appropriated  to  himself, 
and  the  rest  having  bound  the  company,  obliged  Mr. 
Saunders  to  accompany  them  about  the  house,  and  open 
his  closets  and  boxes,  to  prevent  the  necessity  of  laying 
violent  hands  upon  them,  and  perhaps  upon  himself. 
They  then  possessed  themselves  of  upwards  of  a  hun- 
dred pounds  in  money,  besides  other  property,  including 
all  the  plate  in  the  house.  While  this  was  proctfcing, 
the  maid-servant,  a  girl  of  some  presence  of  mind,  ran 
up-stairs,  and  barring  herself  in  one  of  the  rooms,  called 
out  lustily  at  the  window  for  assistance ;  but  one  of  the 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  205 

rogues  following  her,  broke  open  the  door  with  a  poker, 
and  brought  her  down  again.  In  their  search  for  all 
things  of  value  in  the  house,  they  hit  upon  some  bottles 
of  wine,  a  bottle  of  brandy,  and  some  mince-pies,  with 
which  they  immediately  sat  down  and  regaled  them- 
selves, inviting  the  company  to  partake,  indeed  com- 
pelling them  to  drink  a  dram  of  brandy  each,  to  work 
off  the  fright.  Mrs.  Saunders,  however,  fainted,  and  a 
glass  of  water  with  some  drops  in  it  was  instantly  pro- 
vided, with  which  they  bathed  her  temples,  and  were 
very  anxious  for  her  recovery.  After  staying  about 
two  hours  in  the  house,  they  packed  up  their  plunder, 
and  made  off  with  it,  threatening  the  inmates  of  the 
house,  that,  if  they  stirred  within  two  hours,  they 
would  murder  them. 

The  names  of  Turpin's  principal  associates  were 
Fielder,  Rose,  and  Walker;  there  was  another,  also, 
whose  name  we  have  not  learned.  These  made  an 
appointment  to  rob  a  gentleman's  house  at  Croydon, 
and  for  that  purpose  agreed  to  meet  at  the  Half-Moon 
tavern,  which  they  accordingly  did,  about  six  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  Walker,  having  some  knowledge  of 
the  house,  went  at  the  head  of  his  companions  into  the 
yard,  and  found  the  coachman  dressing  the  horses ;  him 
they  bound,  and  going  from  thence  met  Mr.  Sheldon, 
the  master,  whom  they  seized  and  compelled  to  show 
them  the  way  to  the  house.  As  soon  as  they  entered, 
they  tied  Mr.  Sheldon's  hands  behind  him  with  cords, 
and  having  served  the  rest  of  the  family  after  the  same 
fashion,  fell  to  plundering  the  house.  Eleven  guineas, 
and  several  pieces  of  plate,  jewels,  and  other  things  of 
value,  was  the  result  of  this  adventure ;  but  before  they 
left  the  place  they  returned  two  guineas,  thanked  Mr. 
Sheldon  for  the  very  courteous  manner  with  which 
they  had  been  received,  and  bade  him  good  night. 

Their  next  design  was  upon  the  house  of  Mr.  Law- 
rence, at  Edgeware-bury  near  Stanmore.  About  five 
o'clock  they  went  from  the  Queen's  Head  at  Stanmore, 
and  proceeded  to  the  destined  spot.  On  their  arrival, 
they  left  their  horses  at  the  outer  gate,  and  climbing 
R 


206  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBPERS. 

over  the  hatch  into  the  sheep-yard,  met  with  a  boy 
just  putting  up  some  sheep.  They  seized  him,  and 
presenting  a  pistol,  told  him  they  would  shoot  him  if 
he  offered  to  cry  out,  but  if  he  would  inform  them  truly 
what  servants  Mr.  Lawrence  kept,  and  who  was  in  the 
house,  they  would  give  him  money.  The  boy,  terrified 
at  their  threats,  told  instantly  what  they  desired,  and 
one  of  them  thereupon  knocked  at  the  door.  When  it 
was  opened  they  all  rushed  in  with  pistols  in  their 
hands,  and  seizing  Mr.  Lawrence,  rifled  his  pockets, 
out  of  which  they  took  one  guinea,  a  Portugal  piece  of 
thirty-six  shillings,  about  fifteen  shillings  in  silver,  and 
his  keys.  Dissatisfied  with  so  small  a  booty,  they  then 
drove  him  up-stairs,  and  breaking  open  a  closet,  plun- 
dered it  of  money,  silver  cups  and  spoons,  gold  rings, 
and  many  other  things  of  value.  A  bottle  of  elder 
wine  which  they  found  they  divided  amongst  the  ser- 
vants, lifting  it  to  their  mouths,  as  their  hands  were 
pinioned  behind  them.  A  maid-servant  who  was 
churning  in  an  outhouse,  hearing  a  noise,  suspected 
there  were  thieves  in  the  house,  and  put  out  the  candle 
to  secrete  herself.  One  of  them,  however,  discovered 
her,  and  dragging  her  from  her  hiding-place,  menaced 
her  with  the  most  horrid  threats  if  she  raised  an  alarm. 
All  of  them,  indeed,  disappointed  and  enraged  at  their 
ill  success,  (for  they  had  calculated  upon  a  rich  return 
for  their  trouble  and  hazard,)  practised  on  this  occasion 
the  most  savage  cruelties.  Having  stripped  the  house 
of  every  thing  of  worth,  even  to  the  sheets  from  the 
beds,  they  dragged  Mr.  Lawrence  down  stairs  again, 
and  declared,  with  the  most  dreadful  oaths,  that  they 
would  cut  his  throat  if  he  hesitated  to  confess  what 
money  was  in  the  house;  and  being  answered  that 
there  was  none  excepting  that  which  they  had  taken, 
they  beat  him  barbarously  with  the  butt-ends  of  their 
whips,  and  inflicted  a  terrific  cut  upon  his  head  with  a 
pistol.  One  of  them  took  a  chopping-bill  and  swore  he 
would  cleave  his  legs  off;  another  a  kettle  of  water 
from  the  fire,  and  flung  upon  him,  which  happening, 
however,  to  have  been  recently  filled,  did  no  serious 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  207 

injury.  In  their  search,  besides  the  beforementioned 
particulars,  they  met  with  a  chest  belonging  to  one  ot 
Mr.  Lawrence's  sons,  which  they  broke  open,  taking 
therefrom  twenty  pounds,  and  all  his  linen.  Some  of 
th  >se  things  were  afterwards  traced  to  a  place  called 
Duck-lane,  where  two  of  these  fellows  were  appi  3- 
hended. 

Although  in  this  robbery  they  got  about  twenty-six 
pounds  in  money  in  the  whole,  yet  they  made  no  fair 
distribution  of  it  amongst  themselves.  The  honor 
mentioned  as  existing  among  thieves  was.  in  this  in- 
stance, at  any  rate,  something  of  that  character  which 
distinguishes  their  dealings  with  others  not  of  their 
profession  ;  for  it  appeared  upon  evidence,  that  those 
who  were  most  fortunate  in  the  plunder,  on  the  division 
of  the  spoil,  could  bring  their  minds  to  produce  no 
more  than  three  pounds  nine  shillings  and  sixpence. 

These  frequent  and  daring  burglaries  induced  his 
majesty  to  oiler  a  pardon  to  any  one  of  the  criminals 
who  had  been  concerned  in  entering  the  house  of  Mr. 
Lawrence,  and  committing  such  .atrocities  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  4th  of  February ;  and  further,  a  reward  of 
fifty  pounds  to  every  person  who  should  be  instrumen- 
tal in  the  discovery  of  any  of  the  offenders. 

Notwithstanding  which,  on  the  7th  of  February  the 
party  again  met  by  appointment,  having  fixed  upon  the 
White  Hart  in  Drury-lane,  as  the  best  place  whereat  to 
concert  future  depredations.  Accordingly,  they  agreed 
upon  making  an  attempt  to  rob  Mr.  Francis,  a  large 
farmer  near  Mary-le-bone,  at  whose  house  they  arrived 
shortly  after  seven.  The  details  of  this  outrage  are 
much  the  same  as  the  previous  robberies  in  which 
they  were  engaged.  They  succeeded  in  obtaining 
thirty-seven  guineas  and  ten  pounds  in  silver,  a  quan- 
tity of  jewels  and  linen,  and  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Fran- 
cis' wig,  all  of  which  they  carried  off;  not  forgetting 
the  latter,  the  value  of  which,  excepting  to  the  owner, 
we  are  quite  at  a  loss  to  conceive. 

They  also  formed  a  design  to  rob  the  house  of  a 
country  justice,  and  with  that  intention  met  at  a  public 


208  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

house  nea?  Leigh.  Not  rightly  knowing,  however,  the 
way  into  the  jolly  justice's  domicile,  they  concealed 
vhemselves  under  some  furze  bushes ;  but  while  they 
were  thus  lying  perdue  there,  they  heard  several  per- 
sons riding  along  together,  who  happened  to  be  some 
of  the  neighboring  farmers  returning  from  the  table  of 
the  rustic  Rhadamanthus  in  a  state  of  noisy  mirth,  in- 
duced, doubtless,  by  the  genial  fumes  of  the  justice's 
wines;  and  by  their  conversation  it  was  plain  that 
there  were  others  still  remaining  there,  who,  dreading 
neither  riotous  spouses  nor  the  midnight  bottle,  might 
probably  have  determined  with  wine  and  song  to  "  out- 
watch  the  bear;"  they,  therefore,  deemed  it  advisable 
not  to  attempt  it  that  night,  and  adjourned  accordingly 
their  attack  to  some  more  promising  period,  which  so 
far  proved  of  advantage  to  them,  that  it  thereby  pre- 
vented their  being  taken,  as  otherwise  they  unavoida- 
bly would  have  been ;  for  they  had  been  observed  by 
some  of  the  neighborhood,  and  being  suspected  as 
smugglers,  information  was  given  to  the  custom-house, 
and  a  party  of  dragoons  sent  out  after  them,  whom 
they  met ;  when  after  a  strict  search,  nothing  having 
been  found  upon  them,  they  were  suffered  to  pass. 
Thus  the  jolly  justice  escaped. 

The  daring  robberies  of  these  men  at  length  roused 
the  country,  and  one  of  the  king's  keepers  waited  on 
the  duke  of  Newcastle,  and  obtained  his  majesty's  pro- 
mise of  a  reward  of  one  hundred  pounds  to  him  who 
should  be  fortunate  enough  to  apprehend  any  of  them. 
This  made  them  lie  a  little  more  concealed ;  but  some 
of  the  keepers  and  others  receiving  intelligence  that 
they  were  regaling  themselves  at  an  alehouse  in  West- 
minster, they  pursued  them  there,  and  bursting  open 
the  door,  took  three,  after  a  stout  resistance ;  two  of 
whom,  the  third  turning  evidence  against  them,  were 
hanged  in  chains  accordingly.  Turpin,  however,  made 
his  escape  by  leaping  from  a  window. 

The  gang  thus  broke  up,  and  Turpin,  quite  left  to 
himself,  made  a  determination  never  to  command  an- 
other, but  to  go  altogether  upon  his  own  bottom ;  and 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  209 

with  this  view  he  set  out  for  Cambridge,  as  he  was  not 
known  in  that  county. 

Notwithstanding  this  resolve,  the  following  strange 
encounter  provided  him  with  his  best  companion  (as 
he  would  call  him)  before  he  reached  his  journey's 
end.  King,  the  highwayman,  who  had  been  towards 
Cambridge  on  professional  business,  was  returning  to 
town.  Turpin  seeing  him  well  mounted,  and  bearing 
the  appearance  of  a  gentleman,  thought  it  was  an  ex- 
cellent opportunity  to  recruit  his  pockets,  and  accord- 
ingly, with  a  loud  voice,  commanded  King  to  stand. 
King,  enjoying  the  joke,  though  at  the  ugly  prospect  of 
a  bullet  through  his  head  if  he  carried  the  jest  too  far, 
assumed  all  the  conduct  of  a  person  so  unceremonious- 
ly  addressed.     "Deliver!"    shouted  Turpin,   "or  by 

I  '11   let  daylight  through  you."     "  What,"  said 

King,  laughing  heartily,  "  what !  dog  eat  dog  !-  Come, 
come  !  brother  Turpin,  if  you  don't  know  me,  I  know 
you,  and  should  be  glad  of  your  company."  After 
mutual  assurances  of  fidelity  to  one  another,  and  that 
nothing  should  part  them  till  death,  they  agreed  to  go 
together  upon  some  exploit,  and  met  with  a  small  booty 
that  very  day ;  after  which  they  continued  together, 
committing  divers  robberies,  for  nearly  three  years, 
when  King  was  accidentally  shot. 

King  being  very  well  known  about  the  country,  as 
likewise  was  Turpin,  insomuch  that  no  house  would 
entertain  them,  they  formed  the  idea  of  dwelling  in  a 
cave,  and  to  that  end  pitched  upon  a  place  enclosed 
with  a  large  thicket,  between  Loughton  Road  and 
King's-Oak-Road ;  here  they  made  a  place  large 
enough  to  receive  them  and  two  horses,  and  while 
they  lay  concealed  there,  they  could  see,  through  seve- 
ral holes  purposely  made,  what  passengers  went  by  oil 
either  road,  and  as  they  thought  proper  sallied  out  and 
robbed  them.  This  they  did  in  such  a  daring  manner 
and  so  frequently,  that  it  was  not  safe  for  any  person 
to  travel  that  way,  and  the  very  higglers  were  obliged 
to  go  armed.  In  this  cave  they  drank  and  lay ;  Tur- 
pin's  wife  supplied  them  with  food,  and  frequently 
remained  in  the  place  all  night  with  them. 


210  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

From  the  forest,  King  and  Turpin  once  took  a  ride 
to  Bungay  in  Suffolk,  where  the  latter  had  seen  twc 
young  market-women  receive  thirteen  or  fourteen 
pounds,  and  was  determined  to  rob  them  of  it.  King 
attempted  to  dissuade  him  from  it,  saying,  they  were 
pretty  girls,  and  he  would  never  be  engaged  in  an  at- 
tempt to  deprive  two  hard-working  women  of  their  lit- 
tle gains.  Turpin,  however,  persisted,  and  coming  up 
with  them,  relieved  them  of  the  burden  of  their  coin, 
which  exploit  occasioned  a  dispute  between  them. 

As  they  were  returning  they  robbed  a  gentleman, 
who  was  taking  an  airing  in  his  chariot,  with  his  two 
children.  King  first  attacked  him,  but  found  him  so 
powerful  and  determined  a  person,  returning  such 
sound  replies  in  the  shape  of  blows  to  poor  King's 
civilities,  that  he  was  fain  to  call  upon  his  companion 
for  assistance.  Their  united  strength  at  last  overcame 
him,  and  they  took  from  him  all  the  money  he  had 
about  him,  and  then  demanded  his  watch,  which  he 
declined  on  any  account  to  part  with ;  but  one  of  the 
hildren  became  frightened,  and  persuaded  its  father  to 
let  them  have  it.  They  then  insisted  upon  taking  a 
mourning  ring  which  they  observed  he  wore,  and  an 
objection  was  raised  on  his  part,  even  to  that  proposi- 
tion. Finding,  however,  it  was  useless  to  oppose  them, 
he  at  length  resigned  it,  telling  them  it  was  not  worth 
eighteen  pence,  but  that  he  much  valued  it:  upon 
which  information  they  returned  it  to  him,  saying  they 
were  too  much  of  gentlemen  to  take  any  thing  which 
another  valued  so  much. 

About  this  time  the  reward  offered  for  the  appreheu- 
sion  of  Turpin  had  induced  several  poor,  but  resolute 
men,  to  make  an  attempt  to  get  him  into  their  power. 
Among  the  rest  a  man,  groom  to  a  Mr.  Thompson, 
tempted  by  the  placard  setting  forth  the  golden  return 
in  the  event  of  success,  connected  himself  with  a  higgler 
to  ward  off  suspicion,  and  commenced  his  search. 
Turpin  one  day  standing  by  himself  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  cave,  observed  some  one  who,  he  supposed, 
was  poaching  for  hares,  and  saluted  him  with,  "  No 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  211 

hares  near  this  thicket ;  it's  of  no  use  seeking,  you  'II 
not  find  any." — "  Perhaps  I  shall  a  Turpin,  though," 
replied  the  fellow,  and  levelled  his  piece  at  him.  See- 
ing his  danger,  Turpi n  commenced  a  parley,  retreating 
at  the  same  time  by  degrees  towards  his  cave,  the 
groom  following  him  with  his  gun  presented.  "I  sur- 
render," said  Turpin,  when  he  reached  the  mouth  of 
the  cavern,  and  the  man  dropping  the  point  of  his  piece, 
the  former  seized  his  carbine,  and  shot  him  dead  on  the 
spot.  Turpin  instantly  made  off  to  another  part  of 
the  country,  in  search  of  King,  and  sent  his  wife  a 
letter  to  meet  him  at  a  certain  public  house,  at  which, 
in  a  few  days,  inquiring  for  her  under  a  feigned  name, 
he  found  she  was  awaiting  his  appearance.  The 
kitchen  where  she  was  happened  to  be  at  the  back 
through  a  public  room,  where  some  farmers  and  others 
were  regaling  themselves.  On  passing  through,  a 
butcher,  to  whom  he  owed  five  pounds,  recognised 
him,  and  taking  him  aside,  said,  "I  know  you  have 
money  now,  Dick ;  if  you  'd  pay  me,  it  would  be  of 
great  service." — "  My  wife  has  certainly  money  to 
some  amount,"  replied  Turpin,  with  a  most  unmoved 
countenance;  "she  is  in  the  next  place;  I  '11  get  it  of 
her,  and  pay  you  presently."  When  Turpin  was  gone, 
the  butcher  apprized  the  company  who  he  was,  and 
added,  "  I  '11  just  get  my  five  pounds  of  him,  and  then 
we  '11  take  him."  Turpin,  however,  was  not  to  be  so 
caught,  and  instead  of  going  to  his  wife,  leaped  out  of 
the  next  window,  took  horse,  and  was  off  in  an  instant, 
much  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  knight  of  the  cleaver 
and  the  assembled  company,  who  doubtless  had  calcu- 
lated most  correctly  the  proportion  of  the  reward  that 
would  be  due  to  each  by  virtue  of  the  king's  signet. 

Having  discovered  King,  and  one  of  his  associates 
whose  name  was  Potter,  they  determined  to  set  out  at 
once  for  London ;  and  coming  over  the  forest  about 
three  hundred  yards  from  the  Green  Man,  Turpin 
found  that  his  horse,  having  undergone  great  fatigue, 
began  to  tire.  On  such  an  occasion  it  was  no  question 
with  Turpin  how  he  should  provide  himself  with  an- 

9 


212  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

other,  for,  overtaking  a  gentleman,  the  owner  of  seve- 
ral race-horses,  he  at  once  appropriated  his  steed  and  a 
handsome  whip  to  his  own  peculiar  use,  and  recom- 
mending his  own  broken-down  jade  to  the  kind  consi- 
deration of  the  party,  speaking  highly  of  his  points, 
left  him  to  mount  the  sorry  courser,  and  urge  the 
wretched  quadruped  forward  in  the  best  way  he  could. 
This  robbery  was  committed  on  a  Saturday  night, 
and  on  the  Monday  following  the  gentleman  received 
intelligence,  that  such  a  •  horse  as  he  had  lost  and  de- 
scribed was  left  at  an  inn  in  Whitechapel ;  he  accord- 
ingly went  there,  and  found  it  to  be  the  same.  Nobody 
came  for  it  at  the  time  appointed,  but  about  eleven 
o'clock  at  night,  King's  brother  called  for  the  horse,  and 
was  seized  immediately.  The  whip  he  carried  in  his 
hand  the  gentleman  instantly  identified  as  that  stolen 
from  him,  although  the  button  upon  which  his  name 
had  been  engraved  was  half  broken  off;  the  latter 
letters  of  his  name,  however,  were  plainly  distinguish- 
able upon  the  remaining  part  They  charged  a  consta- 
ble with  him,  but  he  becoming  frightened,  and  on  the 
assurance  that  if  he  spoke  the  truth  he  should  be  re- 
leased, confessed  that  there  was  a  lusty  man  in  a  white 
duffel  coat  waiting  for  it  in  a  street  adjoining.  One 
Mr.  Bayes  immediately  went  out,  and  finding  the  man 
as  directed,  perceived  it  was  King.  Coming  round 
upon  him,  Mr.  Bayes  (the  then  active  landlord  of  the 
Green  Man,  to  whom  the  gentleman  at  the  time  had 
related  the  robbery,)  attacked  him.  King  immediately 
drew  a  pistol,  which  he  pointed  to  Mr.  Bayes'  breast, 
but  it  luckily  flashed  in  the  pan.  A  struggle  then 
ensued,  for  King  was  a  powerful  man,  and  Turpin 
hearing  the  skirmish,  came  up,  when  King  cried  out, 

"  Dick,  shoot  him,  or  we  are  taken,  by !"  at  which 

instant  Turpin  fired  his  pistol,  but  it  missed  Mr.  Bayes. 
and  shot  King  in  two  places.  "  Dick,  you  have  killed 
me,  make  off,"  were  King's  words  as  he  fell,  and  Tur- 
pin, seeing  what  he  had  done,  clapped  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  made  his  escape.  King  lived  for  a  week 
afterwards,  and  gave  Turpin  the  character  of  a  cow- 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  213 

ard ;  telling  Mr.  Bayes  that  if  he  pleased  to  take  him, 
he  was  to  be  found  at  a  certain  house  near  Hackney- 
Marsh,  and  that  when  he  rode  away,  he  had  three 
brace  of  pistols  about  him,  and  a  carbine  slung.  Upon 
inquiry,  it  was  found  that  Turpin  had  actually  been  at 
the  house  which  King  mentioned,  and  made  use  of 
something  like  the  following  expressions  to  the  man. 
"What  shall  I  do?  where  shall  I  go?  Dick  Bayes, 
I  '11  be  the  death  of  you ;  for  I  have  lost  the  best  fel- 
lowman  I  ever  had  in  my  life;  I  shot  poor  King  in 
endeavoring  to  kill  that  dog."  The  same  resolution 
of  revenge  he  retained  to  the  last,  though  without  the 
power  of  effecting  it. 

After  this,  he  still  kept  about  the  forest,  till  he  was 
harassed  almost  to  death  ;  for  he  had  lost  his  place  of 
safety,  the  cave,  which  was  discovered  upon  his  shoot- 
ing Mr.  Thompson's  groom.  When  they  found  the 
cave,  there  were  in  it  two  shirts  in  a  bag,  two  pair  of 
stockings,  part  of  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  some  ham. 
Turpin  was  very  nearly  taken  while  hiding  in  these 
woods  by  a  Mr.  Ives,  the  king's  huntsman,  who,  think- 
ing he  was  secreted  there,  took  out  two  dry-footed 
hounds ;  but  Turpin  perceiving  them  coming,  climbed 
up  a  tree,  and  saw  them  stop  beneath  it  several  times, 
as  though  they  scented  him,  which  so  terrified  Turpin, 
that  as  soon  as  they  were  gone,  he  made  a  resolution 
of  retiring  that  instant  to  Yorkshire. 

Soon  after  this,  a  person  came  out  of  Lincolnshire 
to  Brough,  near  Market-Cave,  in  Yorkshire,  and  stayed 
for  some  time  at  the  Ferry-house.  He  said  his  name 
was  John  Palmer ;  and  he  went  from  thence  sometimes 
to  live  at  North  Cave,  and  sometimes  at  Welton,  con- 
tinuing in  these  places  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  months, 
except  such  part  of  the  time  as  he  went  to  Lincolnshire 
to  see  his  friends,  which  he  frequently  did,  and  as  often 
brought  three  or  four  horses  back  with  him,  which  he 
used  to  sell  or  exchange  in  Yorkshire.  While  he  so 
lived  at  Brough,  Cave,  and  Welton,  he  very  often  went 
out  hunting  and  shooting  with  the  gentlemen  in  the 
neighborhood.     As   he  was"   returning   one  day   from 


214  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

shooting,  he  saw  one  of  his  landlord's  cocks  in  the 
street,  and  raising  his  gun  shot  it  dead.  A  man,  his 
neighbor,  witnessing  so  wanton  an  act,  complained  of 
such  conduct,  asking  him  by  what  authority  he  shot 
another  man's  property.  "  Wait  one  moment,"  said 
Mr.  Palmer,  "  just  stay  till  I  have  charged  my  piece, 
and  I  '11  shoot  you  too."  The  landlord  being  informed 
of  the  loss  he  had  sustained  by  the  death  of  his  favorite 
bird,  and  the  man  who  saw  the  act  being  enraged  at 
the  threat  Palmer  had  used  towards  him,  they  both 
obtained  a  warrant  against  him,  and  he  was  brought 
up  at  the  general  quarter  sessions,  where  he  was 
examined.  Sureties  for  his  good  behavior  in  future 
were  the  penalty  alone  exacted  from  him,  which,  how- 
ever, refusing  to  find,  he  was  committed  to  the  house 
of  correction.  His  conduct  thus  excited  great  suspi- 
cion ;  for  it  was  strange  that  a  man  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  bringing  from  his  friends  in  Lincolnshire  half- 
a-dozen  horses  at  a  time,  and  plenty  of  money,  should 
be  so  forsaken  as  not  to  be  able  to  provide  sure- 
ties ;  and  still  stranger,  that  on  so  trivial  an  occasion 
as  the  present,  if  he  could  find  them  at  all,  he  did  not 
produce  them.  A  man's  pride  under  other  circumstan- 
ces might  be  concerned,  or  a  consciousness  of  innocence 
that  excluded  the  possibility,  or  the  benefit  of  release, 
under  other  conditions  than  free  acquittal ;  but  on  a 
charge  of  this  nature,  which  might  have  been  made  up 
even  by  the  purchase  of  the  fowl,  or  a  simple  excuse, 
his  refusal  was  very  suspicious.  Inquiries  were  set  on 
foot  in  all  quarters ;  and  the  magistrate,  not  contented 
with  the  accounts  he  gave  of  himself  of  having  been  a 
grazier  in  Lincolnshire,  despatched  officers  to  learn  how 
far  that  statement  was  consistent  with  truth.  The 
result  was  a  confirmation  of  Palmer's  account,  so  far  as 
the  fact  of  his  having  lived  in  Lincolnshire,  and  having 
been  a  grazier  there ;  that  is,  that  there  he  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  sheep,  confined  principally,  however, 
to  the  expert  practice  of  stealing  them.  Mr.  Palmer, 
upon  the  receipt  of  this  information,  was  removed  from 
the  Beverly  house  of  correction  to  York  castle,  and  ac- 


RICHARD    TURPIN.  215 

commodated  on  the  way  with  the  use  of  handcuffs, 
and  a  guard  of  honor.  When  he  arrived  at  his  new 
abode,  two  persons  from  Lincolnshire  challenged  a 
inare  and  a  foal  which  he  had  sold  to  a  gentleman,  and 
also  the  horse  on  which  he  rode  when  he  came  to  Be- 
verly, to  be  stolen  from  them  off  the  fens  in,  Lincoln- 
shire. We  need  not  add  that  Mr.  Palmer  was  one  and 
the  same  person  with  Dick  Turpin,  the  notorious  high- 
wayman. 

Turpin  at  one  time,  with  another  fellow,  laid  a 
scheme  for  seizing  the  government  money,  ordered  to 
be  paid  to  tne  ships  at  Portsmouth.  Both  of  them 
were  to  have  attacked  the  guard  in  a  narrow  pass, 
with  sword  and  pistol  in  hand ;  but  Turpin's  courage 
failed  him,  and  the  enterprise  dropped.  Gordon,  his 
accomplice  in  this  design,  was  afterwards  taken  on  a 
charge  in  which  he  alone  was  concerned ;  and  while 
in  Newgate  he  declared  that  "  after  that,  Turpin  would 
be  guilty  of  any  cowardly  action,  and  die  like  a  dog." 

Turpin  was  tried  and  convicted  of  stealing  the  horse 
and  the  foal  and  the  mare  from  the  fens,  and  was  ex- 
ecuted on  Saturday,  April  7th,  1739.  He  behaved 
himself  with  remarkable  assurance,  and  bowed  to  the 
spectators  as  he  passed.  It  was  observed  that  as  he 
mounted  the  ladder  his  right  leg  trembled,  on  which  he 
stamped  it  down  with  violence,  and  with  undaunted 
fortitude  looked  around  him.  After  speaking  to  the 
executioner  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  he  threw  himself 
off  the  ladder,  and  expired  in  about  five  minutes. 

His  corpse  was  brought  back  from  the  gallows  and 
buried  in  a  neat  coffin  in  St.  George's  church-yard. 
The  grave  was  dug  deep,  and  the  persons  he  appointed 
to  follow  him  (mourners  we  hesitate  to  call  them,  for 
we  cannot  imagine  anybody  to  mourn  upon  the  death 
of  such  an  unprecedented  ruffian,) — those  persons,  who- 
ever they  were,  however,  took  all  possible  care  to  se- 
cure the  corpse  :  notwithstanding  which,  some  men 
were  discovered  to  be  moving  off  the  body,  which  they 
had  taken  up ;  and  the  mob  having  got  information 
where  it  might  be  found,  went  to  a  garden  in  which  it 


216  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

was  deposited,  and  brought  it  away  in  a  sort  of  triumph, 
and  buried  it  in  the  same  grave,  having  first  filled  the 
coffin  with  slacked  lime. 


HENRY  SIMMS, 
alias  YOUNG  GENTLEMAN  HARRY. 

We  prefer  giving  an  abstract  of  the  life  and  adven- 
tures of  this  notorious  criminal  in  his  own  words,  since 
it  will  serve  to  show  far  better  than  any  moral  reflec- 
tions of  our  own,  that  when  once  the  principles  become 
vitiated,  whether  by  early  abuse  or  habitual  moral 
recklessness,  the  very  nature  is  changed,  and  the  con- 
science remains  in  a  state  of  abeyance.  There  is  an 
easy  unconcern,  a  "  young  gentleman  "  flippancy  in  the 
style  in  which  our  adventurer  has  chosen  to  narrate  his 
exploits,  that  indicates  too  plainly  the  utter  want  of 
common  or  decent  feeling  in  his  nature,  and  leaves  us 
to  the  unavoidable  conclusion,  that  under  no  possible 
circumstances,  nor  in  any  conceivable  condition,  could 
"  Young  Gentleman  Harry  "  have  become  or  have 
been  made  a  respectable  member  of  society.  He  begins 
his  narrative  thus : — 

"  I  am  now  thirty  years  of  age,  born  in  London, 
October  19,  1716,  of  honest  industrious  parents,  in  the 
parish  of  St.  JVIartin's-in-the-Fields.  Having  the  mis- 
fortune to  lose  both  my  father  and  my  mother  when 
very  young,  I  was  left  to  the  care  of  an  indulgent 
grandmother,  who  tenderly  loved  me,  had  me  educated 
with  maternal  fondness,  and  early  began  to  instil  into 
me  sentiments  of  virtue,  honor  and  honesty,  from  which 
I  too  early  swerved.  My  grandmother  having  been 
many  years  in  the  service  of  a  nobleman,  was  an  old 
servant  much  respected,  and  on  that  account  not  only  in- 
dulged with  having  her  grandson  with  her,  but  was 
likewise  indulged  with  my  being  permitted   to  go  to 


I  i  / 


HENRY  SIMMS.     .  217 


Eton  school  with  two  sons  of  the  noble  lord.  I  remain- 
ed at  Eton  school  some  time,  and  even  there  began  to 
show  an  early  inclination  to  vice,  without  an  opportu- 
nity of  committing  it.  When  I  arrived  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  my  grandmother  put  me  apprentice  to  a 
breeches-maker,  but  a  life  of  servitude  ill  suited  my 
constitution.  I  stayed  with  him  no  longer  than  a 
month,  in  which  short  time  I  procured  to  myself  seve- 
ral choice  acquaintances,  particularly  two  (since  hang- 
ed,) and  was  easily  persuaded  to  accompany  them  in 
many  robberies,  which  we  committed  in  and  about 
Mary-le-bone  fields,  and  the  money  we  got  we  riotously 
spent  among  thieves  and  bullies,  and  when  that  was 
gone,  turned  out  (as  we  called  it)  for  more. 

"  Thus  some  months  passed  on  in  a  round  of  wick- 
edness which  not  all  the  counsel  in  the  universe  could 
restrain.  My  poor  grandmother  with  tears  in  her  eyes 
entreated  me  to  leave  off  my  wicked  course  and  to  fol- 
low her  instructions.  But  I  little  regarded  her  advice, 
and  still  pursued  my  own  schemes, 

"  There  was  hardly  a  place  round  London  famed  for 
wickedness,  but  I  was  there.  Tottenham  Court  Fair, 
when  it  came,  I  rejoiced  at,  for  there  I  lived  riotously, 
and  there  too  I  became  a  proficient  in  the  dexterous  art 
of  picking  pockets,  by  which  I  gained  for  some  time 
pretty  handsomely.  But  at  length  that  business  grew 
dead,  and,  as  I  lived  at  a  large  rate,  money  was  want- 
ing. Accordingly,  having  mustered  up  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  cash,  I  purchased  a  pair  of  pistols  and  a 
horse,  and  set  out ;  and  in  Epping  Forest,  near  Wood- 
ford, I  stopped  two  gentlemen  in  a  chaise  and  pair, 
from  whom  I  took  only  a  little  silver,  and  proceeded  on 
to  Newmarket,  where  I  arrived  that  night,  and  early 
next  morning  set  out  again,  stopped  the  Norwich  coach, 
and  took  from  the  passengers  thirty  guineas,  a  gold 
watch,  and  a  diamond  ring,  and  then  rode  away ;  and 
about  three  hours  after,  near  Littlebury,  met  the  Cam- 
bridge coach,  from  the  passengers  of  which  I  took 
about  five  pounds,  and  came  on  for  London.  I  now 
began   to  frequent  a  noted   gaming-hou^e   in   Covent 


S 


218  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

Garden,  where,  for  several  nights,  I  had  a  prodigious 
run  of  luck,  and  won  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  I 
bought  myself  a  silver  hilted  sword,  had  several  new 
suits  of  clothes  made,  particularly  one  suit  of  black 
velvet,  and  appeared  at  all  my  usual  haunts  with  sur- 
prising eclat.  It  was  at  this  time  I  gained  the  name 
of  l  Gentleman  Harry,'  for  though  I  was  before  only 
called  plain  Harry,  yet,  on  this  my  sudden  grand  ap- 
pearance, I  was  christened  '  Gentleman  Harry,'  which 
name  I  retained  forever.  But  fortune  not  continuing 
her  favors  to  me  at  the  gaming-table,  I  was  once  more 
reduced,  and  obliged  to  take  up  again  my  old  trade. 
Hitherto,  what  business  I  had  done  was  by  myself; 
but  being  out  one  day  with  a  companion  of  mine,  we 
agreed  to  attack  the  first  person  we  met  with  powder 
and  shot.  We  saw  nothing  for  some  days  that  we 
either  cared  or  dared  to  attack,  till  we  came  to  a  place 
called  Eversley  Bank,  where  we  met  a  collector  of 
Shrewsbury :  we  ordered  him  to  stand  and  deliver,  and 
took  from  him  near  three  hundred  pounds.  For  this 
robbery  two  men  were  taken  up  a  short  time  after, 
tried  at  the  assizes,  capitally  convicted,  and  executed : 
and  I  cannot  but  own,  that,  notwithstanding  my  hard- 
ened villany,  so  often  as  I  remembered  it,  I  felt  a  good 
deal  of  sorrow  at  being  the  cause  of  shedding  innocent 
blood,  which  I  always  avoided  and  abhorred. 

"  A  bout  a  month  after  this,  I  robbed  a  lady  on  Black- 
heath,  in  her  coach.  After  this  robbery,  riding  down 
the  hill  that  leads  to  Lewisham  Wash,  I  was  overtaken 
by  six  or  seven  butchers,  one  of  whom  seizing  the  cape 
of  my  coat,  pulled  me  ofT  my  horse,  and  the  cape 
giving  way,  he  tore  it  quite  off.  I  then  pulled  out  my 
pistols,  swearing  I  would  shoot  the  first  man  who  dared 
to  advance ;  which  none  of  them  caring  to  do,  I  re- 
treated into  the  fields  and  got  off  with  the  loss  of  my 
horse,  which  cost  me  seventeen  pounds.  But  I  was  not 
long  without  a  horse,  for,  going  towards  Bromley,  I  met 
a  gentleman  on  horseback,  to  whom  I  presented  my 
pistols,  ordering  him  to  dismount  or  I  would  shoot  him 
through  the  head ;  which  he  did,  and  T  took  from  him 


HENRY    SIMMS.  219 

eight  guineas  and  seventeen  shillings  in  silvei,  and, 
mounting  the  horse,  left  him  to  pursue  his  journey  on 
foot.  1  sold  the  horse  the  next  day  at  the  George,  m 
Farnham,  and  bought  another,  which  cost  me  thirteen 
guineas.  From  thence  I  proceeded  to  Tunbridge,  at 
which  place  I  stayed  a  day  or  two,  and  then  came  to 
London,  where  I  found  an  old  companion,  a  sailor, 
who  agreed  to  turn  out  with  me.  At  the  bottom  of 
Shooters  hill  we  robbed  a  gentleman  of  his  gold  watch, 
and  about  seventeen  pounds :  the  watch  1  afterwards 
sold  for  nine  pounds  at  the  gaming-table  in  Covent 
Garden,  and  lost  the  money  when  I  had  done. 

"  Being  by  this  time  pretty  well  known,  I  ran  great 
hazards;  it  was  but  a  very  few  days  after  I  lost  the 
money  as  above,  I  was  attacked  by  several  soldiers  in 
Drury  Lane,  and  should  have  been  carried  to  the  Savoy, 
had  I  not  been  rescued  by  some  of  my  friends  from 
Covent  Garden ;  and  in  about  a  week  after  that,  I  was 
taken  out  of  a  tavern  for  the  robbery  of  a  gold  watch 
which  I  had  about  me,  and  was  again  rescued  by  my 
companions.  Some  little  time  after  this,  I  was  attacked 
by  about  nine  gentlemen  thief-takers,  in  Bridewell 
Walk,  Clerkenwell,  but  having  my  pistols  about  me,  I 
soon  dispersed  the  cowardly  rascals,  and  walked  off. 
Another  time,  riding  on  horseback  through  Covent 
Garden,  I  was  pursued  by  a  party  of  thief-takers,  but 
got  clear. 

"  Being  in  this  manner  continually  beset  on  all  sides, 
1  was  at  length,  by  the  perfidy  of  some  ladies  with 
whom  I  was  in  company  at  Goodman's  Fields'  Wells, 
taken  by  a  parcel  of  thief-takers,  and  conducted  to 
Clerkenwell  Bridewell,  where  several  prosecutions  were 
commenced  against  me,  and  I  was  obliged  to  come  to  a 
composition  with  divers  of  them,  which  drained  me 
very  low.  One  gentleman  in  particular,  whom  I  had 
^obbed  of  only  eleven  shillings  and  a  small  medal, 
made  me  pay  him  forty-seven  guineas.  By  these  means, 
having  got  rid  of  my  several  prosecutors,  I  was,  by 
ov^er  of  the  court  of  justice,  confined  in  Clerkenwell 
L>    Jewell  two  months  for  an  assault,  at  the  end  of 


220  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAi'MEN  AND  ROBBERS*. 

which  time  I  was  set  at  liberty,  giving  sureties  for  my 
good  behavior  for  two  years.  It  was  not  long  after  T 
was  discharged,  before  I  was  pressed  and  sent  on  board 
his  majesty's  ship  the  Rye,  where  I  continued  for 
about  three  months,  though  much  against  my  inclina- 
tion ;  being  continually  forming  some  scheme  for  an 
escape,  not  one  of  which  schemes  took  effect  till  the 
following  was  hit  upon.  Whilst  we  were  at  Leith,  we 
had  pressed  several  hands  out  of  some  colliers,  who,  I 
found  by  talking  to,  were  as  little  desirous  of  staying 
on  board  as  myself;  I  therefore  proposed  to  eight  of 
them  this  scheme  : — that  when  the  cutter,  which  had 
been  on  shore  pressing,  came  alongside  at  night,  one  of 
them  should  fall  out  of  the  main-chains  into  the  river, 
and  the  rest  of  us  should  immediately  jump  into  the 
boat  and  take  the  man  up,  and  row  away,  which  we 
put  in  practice  with  success,  only,  just  as  we  had  got 
up  our  man,  the  boatswain  jumped  on  board  and 
threatened  us.  My  companions  were  for  throwing  him 
overboard,  but  on  his  promising  to  be  quiet  they  were 
overruled,  and  he  was  suffered  to  sit  still ;  and,  not- 
withstanding several  guns  were  fired  after  us,  we  rowed 
safe  to  shore,  and  left  the  boat  to  the  care  of  the 
boatswain  to  carry  back  if  he  thought  proper.  Being 
safe  on  shore,  we  took  leave  of  each  other :  they  set 
out  for  Scarborough,  and  I  for  Edinburgh,  in  which 
city  I  stayed  about  a  week,  and  during  that  time 
became  acquainted  with  a  Scotch  lassie,  who  not  only 
furnished  me  with  money  to  purchase  my  former  im- 
plements, but  lent  me  seven  guineas  to  bear  my  ex- 
penses to  London,  which  lasted  me  no  farther  than 
Grantham;  and  between  Grantham  and  Stamford  I 
was  obliged  to  speak  with  the  York  stage,  from  the 
passengers  of  which  I  took  eight  guineas,  about  seven- 
teen shillings  in  silver,  a  silver  watch  and  three  plain 
gold  rings,  with  which  I  came  to  London. 

"In  a  short  space  of  time  after  this,  I  committed 
many  robberies  by  myself,  which  I  did  not  exactly 
minute  down.  My  general  rendezvous  was  about 
Epping  Forest,  where  I  robbed  the  Harwich  coach,  thb 


HENRY    SIMMS.  221 

Cambridge  coach,  the  Norwich  coach,  &c.,  to  a  pretty 
large  amount,  which  I  spent  as  fast  as  I  got.  About 
this  time,  I  kept  company  with  another  man's  wife, 
who  was  so  fond  of  me,  that  I  could  persuade  her  either 
out  of  cash  or  any  valuables  she  had,  to  supply  my 
present  necessities ;  as  was  the  case  when  I  persuaded 
her  out  of  her  gold  watch,  and  some  other  things, 
which  her  husband  took  me  up  upon,  and  I  was  com- 
mitted to  Newgate,  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  ac- 
quitted by  the  court,  who  very  justly  saw  through  the 
prosecution.  After  my  being  discharged  on  this  affair, 
I  unluckily,  in  a  quarrel,  ran  a  crab-stick  into  a 
woman's  eye  in  Goodman's-fields,  for  which  I  was  sent 
to  New  Prison.  In  the  mean  time,  I  was  informed  that 
the  wife  was  arrested  on  an  action,  and  sent  to  a  spong- 
ing-house.  Being  determined  to  relieve  her,  if  possi- 
ble, I  contrived  in  what  manner  I  could  make  my 
escape,  and,  accordingly,  by  the  help  of  sheets  I  let 
myself  down  out  of  my  window  and  got  off:  I  imme- 
diately went  to  a  friend  of  mine  in  Leather-iane,  who 
furnished  me  with  two  pistols,  with  which  I  went  to 
the  sponging-house  in  Gray's-inn-lane,  expecting  to 
find  my  lady;  but  when  I  came  there  I  found  she  had 
been  removed  to  Newgate.  Being  thus  disappointed, 
and  having  no  hopes  of  getting  her  out  of  Newgate,  I 
determined  to  go  to  work  at  my  old  trade. 

"In  Broad-street,  St.  Giles',  about  nine  at  night,  I 
stopped  a  coach  which  contained  a  single  gentleman, 
from  whom  I  took  about  seventeen  shillings,  and  from 
thence  went  to  my  old  haunts  in  Covent  Garden,  and 
after  drinking  pretty  freely,  I  had  a  quarrel  with  a 
gentleman,  who  calling  the  watch  to  his  assistance,  I 
was  taken  and  carried  to  the  Covent  Garden  round- 
house. Being  very  much  fuddled,  I  soon  went  to  sleep; 
but  when  I  waked  next  morning,  and  found  myself  in 
a  prison,  after  having  escaped  from  one  but  the  night 
before,  I  was  almost  distracted,  and  began  to  contrive 
an  escape,  but  to  no  purpose ;  for  after  calling  for  the 
keeper  of  the  round-house,  under  pretence  of  beiug 
hungry,  I  got  some  toast  and  ale,  and  therewith  & 


222  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS 

knife,  with  which  I  hoped  once  more  to  make  a  breach 
whereby  to  escape.  But  1  was  doomed  to  be  disap- 
pointed ;  for  notwithstanding  my  cutting  down  the 
plaster  and  laths  of  the  ceiling,  the  joists  were  so  firm 
that  I  could  not  make  an  opening.  I  then  grew  des- 
perate, broke  all  the  things  I  could  find  in  the  room, 
cut  the  sheets  to  pieces,  pulled  off  some  tiles  from  the 
roof,  and  did  every  offensive  act  in  my  power,  till  at 
length  the  constable  with  a  large  posse  of  myrmidons 
arrived,  who  carried  me  before  Sir  Thomas  De  Veil, 
where,  after  a  long  examination,  I  laid  my  information 
of  the  robbery  of  Mr.  Smith  in  Southwark,  which  rob- 
bery I  was  actually  concerned  in,  though  not  wkh  the 
persons  I  swore  against  at  Croydon  assizes,  but  with 
three  others.  We  committed  the  robbery  in  December 
1745,  getting  in  at  the  two-pair-of-stairs  window  by  a 
Jacob,  that  is,  a  ladder  of  ropes,  which  was  fixed  to  the 
sign-post  first,  drawn  afterwards  into  the  balcony,  and 
then  attached  to  the  two-pair-of-stairs  window.  We 
took  from  Mr.  Smith's  house,  after  frightening  Mrs. 
Smith  almost  to  death,  two  bags  of  money  containing- 
514/.  and  a  201.  bank  note,  and  carried  off  in  bags  goods 
to  the  value  of  800/.  The  cash  we  divided  equally 
amongst  us  at  a  house  in  the  Mint;  the  plate  we  sold ; 
and  we  carried  the  goods  to  a  house  near  the  Pinder  of 
Wakefield,  near  Pancras ;  but  for  my  share  of  the  goods 
I  never  received  one  penny ;  they  were  carried  to  Ire- 
land by  my  three  accomplices,  who  promised  to  remit 
me  my  part,  but  were  never  so  good  as  their  words. 
After  my  examination  I  was  removed  to  the  New 
Gaol,  Southwark,  to  give  evidence  at  the  assizes  at 
Croydon. 

"After  this  affair  at  Croydon,  I  was  removed  by 
habeas  to  Newgate,  on  the  oath  of  a  barber  at  West- 
minster, whom  I  had  robbed,  which  barber  was  found 
out  by  some  of  my  enemies  to  prosecute  me;  and  upon 
his  indictment  I  was  tried,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced 
to  transportation;  and,  about  two  months  after,  was 
with  several  other  convicts  put  on  board  the  Italian 
Merchant,  which  carried  us   to  Maryland.     On   our 


HENRY    SIMMS.  223 

4 

passage  I  had  formed  several  plans  for  an  escape,  one 
of  which  had  nearly  been  successful,  and  was  agreed 
upon  between  me  and  the  rest  of  the  transports.  We 
were  at  a  certain  time  to  have  secured  the  captain  and 
sailors,  as  well  as  the  fire-arms,  and  to  have  run  away 
with  the  ship,  but  one  of  them  discovered  it  to  the 
captain,  who  put  us  in  irons,  and  kept  a  watchful  eye 
on  us  during  the  remainder  of  the  voyage.  When  we 
arrived  at  Maryland,  I  was  disposed  of  to  the  master 
of  the  Two  Sisters,  who  was  in  want  of  sailors,  and 
with  whom  I  went  to  sea.  We  had  not  been  out  many 
days  before  we  were  taken  by  a  privateer  of  Bayonne, 
and  carried  into  Spain.  We  were  all  sent  on  shore, 
and  had  papers  given  to  us  to  go  to  Portugal.  When 
I  arrived  at  Oporto,  I  was  pressed  on  board  his  majes- 
ty's ship  the  King  Fisher,  where  I  remained  about  four 
months,  in  which  time  we  took  several  prizes.  But 
not  liking  my  station,  I  left  her  at  Oporto,  travelled  to 
Lisbon,  and  got  in  the  Hanover  packet  to  Falmouth, 
where  I  stayed  about  a  month.  My  companions  enV 
deavored  to  persuade  me  to  go  a  privateering  with  them 
in  the  Warner  galley;  but  I  refused,  and  leaving  Fal- 
mouth travelled  to  St.  Ives,  where  I  found  a  vessel 
ready  to  sail  for  Bristol,  on  board  of  which  I  went,  and 
arrived  at  Bristol  in  two  days.  I  was  not  long  there 
before  I  determined  to  set  up  my  old  trade,  and  pro- 
cured a  pair  of  pistols,  though  I  still  wanted  a  horse ; 
but  having  observed  several  horses  in  a  field  near 
Lawford's-gate,  I  soon  marked  out  one  for  myself,  and 
that  night  got  into  a  stable,  from  whence  I  stole  a 
saddle  and  bridle,  and  without  much  difficulty  caught 
my  horse  and  set  out  for  London. 

"  When  I  reached  London,  1  was  soon  informed  the 
thief-takers  were  after  me.  The  night  I  came  to  town, 
I  put  my  horse  up  at  the  White  Swan  in  Whitechapel, 
but  went  no  more  near  him,  fearful,  as  I  had  stolen 
him,  he  might  be  advertised.  But  J  was  not  long 
without  a  horse,  for  one  Saturday  right,  about  eight 
o'clock,  coming  from  St.  James',  where  I  had  been 
regaling  with  some  friends,  I  perc.ived  a  boy  in  Rider 


224  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

street  walking  a  horse  about,  apparently  waiting  for 
somebody.  1  called  and  persuaded  him  to  step  on  an 
errand  into  Duke  street  while  I  held  the  horse,  and, 
as  soon  as  the  boy  was  gone,  I  mounted  and  rode 
away,  and  crossing  the  country  reached  Harrow-on- 
the-Hill,  where  I  passed  the  night,  and  the  next  day 
set  out  towards  London,  in  hopes  of  meeting  some  of 
the  farmers  returning  from  the  hay-markets  after  hav- 
ing sold  their  hay.  I  had  drank  pretty  freely  at  dinner 
and  was  somewhat  elevated.  I  had  not  ridden  far 
before  I  met  three  gentlemen,  whom  I  commanded  to 
{ stand  and  deliver  their  money,'  which  they  did  very 
quietly.  From  the  first  I  got  about  three  pounds,  from 
the  second  I  had  about  five  pounds,  and  from  the  third 
thirteen  or  fourteen  shillings. 

"  The  next  person  I  robbed  was  Mr.  Sleep,  my  pro- 
secutor, and  though  neither  he  nor  I  recognised  each 
other  at  that  time,  yet  he,  it  seems,  has  known  me  from 
a  child.  I  took  from  him  his  watch  and  six  shillings, 
and  made  off. 

"After  robbing  Mr.  Sleep,  I  still  kept  travelling 
towards  London,  in  hopes  of  meeting  the  farmers ;  at 
length,  five  of  them  appeared,  whom  I  commanded  '  to 
stop,'  and  took  from  them  about  151.  in  silver.  I  felt 
in  their  pockets  for  watches,  but  they  had  none.  Next 
I  met  three  men,  whom  I  ordered  '  to  stop  f  but  they, 
not  regarding  my  orders,  refused,  and  rode  full  speed, 
and  I  alongside  of  them  for  at  least  five  or  six  minutes, 
presenting  my  pistol,  swearing  I  would  shoot  if  they 
did  not  stop  :  but  they  still  rode  on ;  and  I  turned  from 
them,  giving  them  a  hearty  d — n,  not  caring  to  kt  off 
my  pistol;  for  I  had  determined  to  shoot  no  man, 
unless  he  attempted  to  take  me.  But  after  this,  on  the 
same  road,  I  robbed  two  more  men  ;  from  one  I  took 
about  fifteen  shillings,  from  another  about  seven  shil- 
lings. Turning  from  them  I  let  off  one  of  my  pistols 
into  the  air,  and  went  on  for  London. 

"  That  night  I  made  a  sort  of  perambulation  among 
the  thief-takers,  determining  to  do  mischief  to  some  of 
them,  if  possible,  especially  to  those  who,  I  heard,  had 


HENRY    SIMMS.  225 

been  after  me.  The  first  I  went  to  was  one  W.  H.  in 
Chancery-lane.  Being  on  horseback,  I  knocked  at  the 
door,  which  his  wife  opened,  demanding  my  business. 
I  told  her,  '  to  speak  with  her  husband.'  She  replied, 
'  he  was  gone  to  bed,'  at  the  same  time  desiring  to 
know  my  name  and  business.  '1  am  a  gentleman 
of  his  acquaintance,'  said  I ;  'he  will  know  me  when 
he  sees  me.'  My  blunderbuss,  which  I  then  carried, 
being  mounted  with  brass,  and  having  a  brass  barrel, 
by  the  light  of  her  candle  she  perceived  it,  and  directly 
slapped  to  the  door,  called  to  her  husband  and  told  him 
(mentioning  my  name)  that  I  was  at  the  door.  I  could 
hear  him  ask  for  his  piece,  on  which  1  cried  out,  '  You 
rascal,  come  to  the  door,  and  I  '11  piece  you  ;'  and  if  he 
had  come  I  should  certainly  have  killed  him,  but  he 
thought  better  of  it,  and  I  rode  away. 

11  From  my  friend  H.  I  went  to  another  of  the  same 
sort  of  gentry  in  Holborn,  one  I.  S.  I  got  off  my  horse 
and  went  into  his  house  threatening  destruction ;  but  the 
moment  he  saw  me  enter  at  one  door,  he  went  out  at 
another,  and  after  venting  a  few  oaths,  I  remounted 
my  horse,  and  went  to  the  Greyhound  inn,  in  Drury- 
lane,  where  I  lay  that  night. 

"  Next  morning  I  set  out  for  Epping  Forest,  and 
dined  at  the  Bird-in-Hand,  atStiatford:  after  dinner, 
about  two  o'clock,  I  set  out  on  the  Romford  road.  I 
met  in  the  forest  a  chaise,  and  from  a  man  therein  took 
about  fourteen  shillings.  This  robbery  was  done  with- 
in sight  of  the  Spread  Eagle,  at  the  door  of  which  seve- 
ral people  were  drinking  on  horseback.  From  thence 
I  rode  through  Ilford,  then  came'  on  the  forest  again, 
and  stayed  till  it  was  almost  dark,  and  rode  towards 
Laytonstone,  within  half  a  mile  of  which  I  robbed  a 
captain  of  his  gold  watch,  ten  guineas,  and  some  silver. 
After  speaking  with  the  captain,  I  came  off  the  forest 
for  London.  Perceiving  a  hurly-burly,  and  a  great  mob 
at  Snaresbrook  turnpike,  I  rode  up  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  and  on  inquiry  amongst  the  mob,  found 
that  they  had  stopped  a  gentleman  whom  they  mistook 
for  me.     As  it  was  dark  and  they  could  not  distinguish 


226  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

me,  I  thought  it  most  prudent  to  ride  through  the  turn- 
pike, and  go  directly  for  London,  which  I  did,  and 
putting  up  my  horse  at  the  Saracen's  Head,  Aldgate, 
and  calling  a  coach,  I  went  to  a  tavern,  where  1  lay  all 
night. 

"  In  the  morning  I  began  to  reflect  that,  it  being  well 
known  I  was  in  England  returned  from  transportation, 
and  as  well  known  too  that  I  had  committed  a  great 
many  robberies,  there  were  many  thief- takers  after  me, 
and  I  was  surrounded  with  danger;  and  I  therefore 
determined  to  set  out  for  Chester  immediately,  and 
from  thence  to  Dublin,  resolving,  as  I  had  now  a  hand- 
some sum,  as  well  as  a  parcel  of  diamond  rings  and 
watches,  to  live  entirely  on  my  stock,  and  rob  no  more, 
at  least  while  that  lasted.  I  dined  that  day  at  St. 
Alban's,  and  as  I  generally  drank  both  at  and  after  my 
meals  pretty  freely,  1  soon  grew  warm,  and  after  din- 
ner, setting  out  for  Dunstable,  I  found  my  resolution  to 
rob  no  more  would  not  hold,  for  within  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  of  Redbourne,  I  ordered  three  gentlemen  to  stand 
and  deliver.  Presenting  my  pistol  at  the  first,  he  re- 
plied, that  he  would  not  be  robbed,  and  rode  on ;  the 
second  hit  me  on  the  head  with  his  whip,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  other  rode  by  me.  Having  a  good  beast 
under  me,  I  was  quickly  up  with  them,  and  putting  on 
one  of  my  terrible  countenances,  with  bitter  impreca- 
tions I  avowed  that  I  would  instantly  shoot  the  first 
man  dead  who  refused  to  deliver ;  when  the  first  of 
them  quietly  gave  me  about  nine  shillings ;  from  the 
second  I  took  an  old-fashioned  watch  and  seventeen 
shillings ;  and  from  the  third,  two  guineas  and  about 
five  shillings ;  and  taking  my  leave  immediately,  at- 
tacked two  more  gentlemen,  who  likewise  rode  for  it; 
but  their  horses  being  as  good  as  mine,  I  ran  them  into 
Redbourne,  and  then  gave  it  up.  About  an  hour  after, 
I  stopped  a  single  man  on  horseback,  who  telling  me 
he  had  but  eighteen-pence,  I  bade  him  keep  that ;  but 
he  seeming  to  have  a  very  good  horse  and  mine  begin- 
ning to  fail,  I  made  him  dismount  and  change  with 
me.     He  had  a  portmanteau  on  his  horse,  which  he 


/ 


HENRY  SIMMS.  227 

was  very  industriously  going  to  take  off,  but  I  told  him 
he  might  as  well  let  it  remain  where  it  was,  which  he 
did,  though  I  had  no  opportunity  to  see  what  was  in  it; 
for  being  now  become,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most  indus- 
trious of  my  profession,  I  could  no  more  let  a  coach, 
chaise,  or  man  go  by  without  speaking  with  them  in 
my  way,  than  I  could  fly;  and  perceiving  a  coach 
coming  along,  which  proved  to  te  the  Warrington 
stage,  I  directly  made  up  to  it,  and  got  from  the  pas- 
sengers therein  about  three  pounds.  The  ladies  seemed 
terribly  frightened,  and  begged  I  would  take  my  pistol 
away,  which  I  did,  and  after  taking  their  money  I 
went  on  for  Dunstable,  and  calling  at  several  houses 
before  I  got  there,  I  became  pretty  fatigued,  not  only 
with  my  business,  but  with  liquor  too.  Being  very 
much  fuddled,  I  was  so  cunning  as  to  think  of  putting 
up  at  the  Bull  inn,  at  Dunstable,  the  very  house  where 
the  Warrington  coach  went  to.  After  dismounting  my 
horse,  and  calling  for  a  quartern  of  brandy,  I  saw 
some  of  the  passengers  in  the  kitchen,  belonging  to  the 
coach  I  had  just  then  robbed,  on  which,  I  never  stayed 
for  my  brandy,  but  went  out  of  the  house,  mounted 
my  horse,  and  rode  as  fast  as  I  could  make  him  go, 
till  I  came  to  Hockliffe,  and  as  it  rained  very  hard,  I 
resolved  to  put  up,  and  accordingly  went  into  the  Star 
inn.  After  I  had  been  there  about  an  hour,  and  had 
drank  very  freely,  I  became  intoxicated,  and  fell  asleep 
by  the  kitchen  fire ;  but  was  soon  awakened  by  three 
troopers  and  some  others  with  pistols  at  my  head, 
swearing  they  would  shoot  me  if  I  offered  to  put  my 
hand  to  my  pockets.  Being  half  asleep  as  well  as 
drunk,  they  soon  disarmed  me,  and  took  from  me  one 
gold  watch,  two  silver  ones,  four  diamond  rings,  forty- 
seven  guineas  in  gold,  and  four  pounds  in  silver:  three 
of  the  best  diamond  rings  I  had  secreted  in  my  neck- 
cloth. I  desired  them  to  give  me  my  money  again,  and 
to  let  me  go  to  bed ;  they  gave  me  about  nine  pounds 
in  gold  and  silver  back,  and  then  conducted  me  to  a 
chamber,  where  I  went  to  bed,  after  putting  my  money 
under  my  pillow,  and  fell  asleep,  guarded  by  the  troop- 


228  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

ers,  who  took  my  money  from  under  my  head,  which, 
when  I  awoke  and  missed,  I  charged  them  with,  telling 
them  it  was  using  me  exceedingly  ill  indeed,  as  they 
had  gotten  so  much  from  me  already,  to  take  that  from 
me  too;  whereupon,  they  returned  it  tome.  Presently, 
I  got  up  and  sat  by  the  fire-side,  a  good  deal  chagrined 
at  my  unfortunate  fate.  I  resolved  in  my  mind  a  thou- 
sand different  methods  of  escape,  but  none  appeared 
feasible  even  to  myself.  At  length,  a  thought  came 
into  my  head,  of  which  I  was  resolved  to  make  a  trial. 
As  I  knew  these  troopers,  from  their  behavior,  to  be 
hungry  hounds,  and  having  two  seals,  the  one  gold, 
and  the  other  silver,  about  me ;  as  I  sat  over  the  fire,  I 
determined  to  throw  them  in,  naturally  supposing,  from 
their  eagerness  after  plunder,  they  would  endeavor  to 
get  them  out,  and  I  might  thus,  by  some  means  or 
other,  become  master  of  their  fire-arms.  It  happened 
as  I  had  imagined ;  eager  for  their  piey  they  soused 
down  to  rake  them  from  the  ashes,  when  I,  at  the 
same  time,  snatched  a  pistol  from  one  of  their  hands, 
and  snapped  it  at  his  head :  it  missed  fire,  and  I  was 
immediately  overpowered  by  the  rest  of  the  troopers, 
the  landlord  and  others  coming  to  their  assistance ; 
and  I  was  the  next  day  carried  before  the  justice  at 
Dunstable,  where  I  insisted  upon  the  troopers  returning 
me  my  money  and  watches  again,  before  I  would 
answer  any  questions,  and,  accordingly,  I  undressed 
their  pockets  both  of  money  and  watches,  asking  them 
if  they  thought  I  had  nothing  else  to  do  than  to  venture 
my  life  to  dress  the  pockets  of  such  fellows  as  they, 
who  knew  not  how  to  wind  up  a  watch ;  for  in  endea- 
voring to  wind  up  one  of  the  watches  they  had  broken  it. 

"  I  was  eventually  committed  to  Bedford  gaol  for 
robbing  the  Warrington  stage-coach,  where  I  remained 
about  four  months,  till  I  was  removed  by  habeas  corpus 
to  Newgate,  and  in  February  last  was  tried  at  the  Old 
Bailey  for  robbing  Mr.  Francis  Sleep  of  his  watch  and 
six  shillings,  of  which  I  was  found  guilty,  and  received 
sentence  of  death." 

The  above  is  an  abstract  containing  all  the  most 


JAMES  MACLAINE.  229 

interesting  or  prominent  transactions  in  the  life  of 
Henry  Simms,  who  appears  to  have  labored  in  his 
vocation  with  a  zeal  worthy  of  a  better  calling,  and 
with  a  wantonness  deserving  of  the  gallows  to  which, 
at  length,  he  was  compelled  to  ascend.  Young  Gentle- 
man Harry  was  executed  at  Tyburn  in  June,  1747; 
and  after  hanging  till  he  was  dead,  his  body  was  cut 
down  by  a  mob  appointed  for  that  purpose,  and  carried 
to  a  surgeon's  in  Co  vent  Garden. 


JAMES  MACLAINE. 


James  Maclaine,  called  in  his  own  time  by  the  dis- 
tinguished title  of  "  the  gentleman  highwayman,'7 
seemed  at  his  birth  to  be  far  removed  from  the  common 
temptations  which  too  frequently  lead  to  an  infamous 
death.  Until  the  decease  of  his  father,  which  took 
place  when  he  was  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  a  fair 
prospect  of  prosperity  was  presented  to  him ;  but,  un- 
happily, being  conscious  of  his  birth,  which  entitled 
him,  by  a  slight  straining  of  courtesy,  to  the  designa- 
tion of  a  gentleman,  he  imbibed,  together  with  an 
inordinate  vanity,  an  aversion  from  business,  and  an 
immoderate  desire  to  appear  a  gay  young  fellow. 

Lauchlin  Maclaine,  the  father  of  our  adventurer, 
was  a  Presbyterian  divine,  and  pastor  of  a  congregation 
of  that  communion  at  Monaghan,  in  the  North  of  Ire- 
land. He  designed  James,  his  second  son,  for  a  mer- 
chant, and  bestowed  upon  him  a  sound  education,  but 
died  before  he  could  put  his  intentions  into  effect  of 
sending  him  to  Rotterdam  to  be  placed  in  the  counting- 
house  of  a  Scotch  merchant  of  his  acquaintance. 

Young  Maclaine,  the  instant  his  father's  breath  was 
out  of  his  body,  proceeded  to  take  possession  and  to 
dispose  of  his  father's  substance ;  and  tieated  with 
T 


230  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

perfect  contempt  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends  and 
relations,  and  the  exhortations  of  his  aunt,  who,  find- 
ing all  her  entreaties  ineffectual,  took  his  only  sister 
into  her  charge,  and  left  him  to  pursue  what  course  he 
pleased. 

Thus  left  to  himself,  Maclaine  forgot  altogether  the 
projected  Dutch  counting-house,  and  equipping  himself 
in  the  gayest  apparel  that  part  of  the  country  could 
afford,  and  purchasing  a  gelding,  set  up  fine  gentleman 
at  once,  and  in  a  twelvemonth  dissipated  almost  the 
whole  of  his  property.  During  his  extravagances, 
however,  his  ear  had  been  frequently  troubled  with  the 
remonstrances  of  his  aunt  and  his  other  relations, 
which  at  length  he  found  so  disagreeable,  that  he  was 
fain  to  set  out  for  Dublin  without  communicating  his 
intention  to  any  one.  It  was  here,  it  appears,  that  he 
first  conceived  the  notion  of  making  his  fortune  by 
marriage;  and  having  no  disagreeable  person,  he  gra- 
tuitously gave  himself  credit  for  many  more  excellen- 
cies than,  unfortunately,  other  people  could  discover  in 
him.  The  demands  for  the  maintenance  of  such  an 
appearance  as  would  realize  his  hopes  of  a  rich  mar- 
riage, soon  swept  away  the  small  remainder  of  his 
property;  and  he  had  now  full  time  to  reflect  on  his 
folly  and  vanity,  and  to  regret  not  a  little  having  des- 
pised the  advice  of  his  relations,  who  had  for  some  time 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  entreaties  by  letter  for  a  supply 
of  money.  But  upon  them,  nevertheless,  he  felt  was 
now  his  sole  dependence.  He  had  long  spent  his  all — 
he  was  an  entire  stranger  to  a  single  individual  of 
worth  or  substance  in  the  place,  and  his  credit  and 
clothes,  even  to  the  last  shirt,  were  gone.  Selling  his 
sword,  therefore,  the  last  piece  of  splendor  that  remain- 
ed to  him,  he  raised  as  much  as  would  bear  his  charges 
on  foot,  and  with  a  heavy  heart  set  out  to  return  to 
Monaghan,  his  native  place. 

Not  a  hand  was  outstretched  to  welcome  the  prodi- 
gal home  again ;  his  aunt  refused  to  see  him,  all  his 
other  relations  followed  her  example,  and  the  compan- 
ions of  his  former  riots  not  only  refused  him  relief,  but 


JAMES  MACLAINE.  231 

tendered  him  the  sport  and  ridicule  of  the  town.  His 
sister,  however,  sometimes  contrived  to  see  him  by 
stealth  to  give  him  her  pocket  money,  but  that  could 
not  long  support  him.  Here,  then,  he  must  inevitably 
have  starved,  had  not  a  gentleman  on  his  way  to  Eng- 
land, passing  through  the  town,  compassionately  offered 
him  the  place  of  a  servant  who  had  recently  died. 
Want,  and  the  dread  of  starving,  had  by  this  time 
entirely  banished  all  unnecessary  or  superfluous  pride, 
and  our  young  gentleman  accepted  the  offer  with  joy. 
But,  unhappily,  the  extreme  pressure  of  want  once 
removed,  old  thoughts  return,  old  vanities  are  renewed ; 
and  so  it  was  with  Mr.  Maclaine.  His  master's  com- 
mands, though  uniformly  softened  by  good-nature  and 
benevolence,  appeared  to  him  as  so  many  insults  offered 
to  his  birth  and  breeding ;  it  is  no  wonder,  therefore, 
that  in  a  few  months  he  was  discharged  from  his  ser- 
vice. Depending  on  his  sister,  who  was  about  to  be  mar- 
ried to  a  man  of  some  wealth,  he  set  out  once  more  for 
Ireland,  to  endeavor  to  obtain  enough  from  his  relations 
to  fit  him  out  for  America,  or  the  West  Indies ;  but 
here  again  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  His 
sister's  marriage  had  been  broken  off — she  was  unable  to 
do  anything  for  him ; — and  his  other  relations,  deeming 
themselves  scandalized  by  his  having  been  a  footman, 
were  even  less  tractable  than  before,  treated  him  with 
great  indignity,  and  finally  refused  all  manner  of 
assistance. 

Again  reduced  to  starvation,  he  was  obliged  to 
think  of  service  as  his  only  resource.  ,  With  much 
difficulty  he  obtained  a  situation  as  butler  to  a  gen- 
tleman neai  Cork,  with  whom  he  did  not  live  long, 
being  discharged  for  some  breach  of  trust.  Here  he 
remained  for  many  months  out  of  place,  wandering 
about,  without  any  settled  abode  or  means  of  subsis- 
tence, except  occasional  remittances  from  his  elder 
brother,  a  pastor  of  the  English  congregation  at  the 
Hague,  whose  friendly  assistance  was  less  relished, 
because  it  was  accompanied  by  warm  remonstrances 


232  LIVES  OF  HIGhWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

on  the  past,  and  wholesome  advice  on  the  future  con- 
duct of  his  life. 

Fortune  was  at  length  favorable;  his  old  master, 
though  he  refused  him  a  character  to  another  family, 
generously  paid  his  passage  to  England,  and  allowed 
him,  for  a  limited  period  after  his  landing,  a  shilling  a 
day  for  subsistence. 

Once  again  on  this  side  of  the  water,  his  notions  of 
gentility  returned  ;  he  scorned  being  a  menial  servant; 
and  valuing  the  minimum  of  his  ambition  at  a  pair  of 
colors,  he  actually  had  the  impudence  to  attempt  to 
borrow  the  purchase  money  on  the  bond  he  had  ob- 
tained from  his  master..  This  absurd  scheme  failing, 
he  threw  up  his  shilling  a  day  in  disgust,  and  heroic- 
ally cast  himself  for  support  on  a  celebrated  courtesan, 
a  countrywoman  of  his  own,  who  maintained  him  for 
some  months  in  great  magnificence,  and  enabled  him 
to  attend  the  public  places  with  something  like  splen- 
dor. 

But  having  disgusted  this  lady  by  his  pusillanimous 
conduct  in  a  rencontre  with  a  certain  peer, — who 
bestowed  upon  him  a  severe  castigation,  and  very 
nearly  ran  him  through  the  body,  though  he  was  much 
stronger,  and  as  well  armed  as  the  nobleman, — he  was 
once  more  without  resources.  His  grandeur  now  suf- 
fered an  eclipse  for  two  or  three  months,  and  his  last 
suit  had  been  laid  by  in  lavender,  or,  in  other  words, 
pawned,  when  he  inspired  the  regard  of  a  lady  of 
quality,  the  consequence  of  which  was  that  for  five  or 
six  months  longer  he  flourished  away  as  an  idle  fellow 
in  all  the  public  places. 

But  Maclaine  inwardlv  was  not  idle.  He  was  ex- 
tremeiy  anxious  for  an  independent  settlement,  and 
the  thought  of  inveigling  some  woman  of  fortune  by 
the  charms  of  his  person  was  still  uppermost  in  his 
mind.  Among  other  schemes  to  this  end,  there  was 
none  he  built  so  much  upon  as  a  very  hopeful  and 
grateful  plot  he  had  laid  for  the  daughter  of  his  patron- 
ess and  benefactress,  who  had  a  considerable  fortune. 
But  the  young  lady's  waiting-maid,  who  had  either 


JAMES    MACLAINE.  233 

more  honesty  than  abigails  in  general  are  furnished 
with,  or  had  not  received  the  price  with  which  they 
are  usually  rewarded,  discovered  the  affair  tu  the  old 
lady,  who  forthwith  dismissed  Maclaine  from  her  ser- 
vice :  but  when,  in  a  few  months  after,  he  was  much 
reduced,  she  privately  bestowed  upon  him  fifty  pounds 
in  order  to  fit  him  out  for  Jamaica,  where  he  had  pro- 
posed to  go  and  seek  his  fortune,  and  where  the  lady 
was  willing  enough  that  he  should  retire,  that  she 
might  be  free  from  fears  on  her  daughter's  account. 

But  Maclaine  was  no  sooner  possessed  of  this  sum 
than  he  forgot  his  Jamaica  expedition,  and  returned  to 
his  favorite  scheme  of  fortune-hunting;  for  he  never 
could  rid  himself  of  the  idea  that  one  day  or  other  he 
should  succeed  in  the  main  object  of  his  existence.  He 
released,  therefore,  his  best  clothes  from  the  durance 
vile  in  which  they  had  been  plunged,  and  after  va- 
rious treaties  with  match-makers  and  chambermaids, 
relating  to  ladies  of  great  reputed  fortune,  all  which 
treaties  ended  in  disappointment,  he  reluctantly  con- 
tracted his  ambition,  and  made  suit  to  the  daughter  of 
a  considerable  innkeeqer  and  dealer  in  horses,  with 
whom  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  succeed,  and  whom 
he  married  with  her  parents'  consent  and  five  hundred 
pounds. 

Here  it  would  seem  that  Maclaine  had  laid  aside  all 
thoughts  of  the  fine  gentleman,  and  had  really  deter- 
mined to  make  the  most  of  his  wife's  fortune  by  indus- 
try and  diligence.  He  took  a  house  in  Welbeck  street, 
and  set  up  a  grocer's  and  chandler's  shop;  was  very 
obliging  to  his  customers,  punctual  in  his  dealings,  and 
while  his  wife  lived,  was  esteemed  by  his  neighbors  a 
careful  and  industrious  man.  However,  though  at 
times,  and  while  he  was  in  his  shop,  he  appeared  to 
like  his  business,  yet  in  parties  of  pleasure,  which  he 
made  but  too  often,  and  on  holydays,  he  affected  the 
dress  of  a  gentleman,  and  thus  created  expenses  which 
only  a  gradual  encroachment  on  his  capital  enabled 
him  to  meet ;  insomuch  that  when  his  wife  died,  which 
was  about  three  years  after  their  marriage,  he  resolved 


234  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

to  leave  off  business,  and  converted  his  furniture  and 
goods  into  the  miserable  sum  of  eighty-five  pounds, 
which,  perhaps,  with  frugality,  might  have  supported 
him  in  business,  but  which  was  at  all  times  too  small 
a  sum  for  Mr.  Maclaine. 

His  mother-in-law  consenting  to  take  charge  of  his 
only  daughter,  and  once  more  in  a  manner  a  single 
man,  with  his  eighty-five  pounds  in  his  pocket,  again 
did  the  desire  of  appearing  the  gay  fine  gentleman  ob- 
trude itself  upon  his  mind,  and  his  old  project  of  mar- 
rying a  rich  fortune  engrossed  all  his  faculties.  For 
this  purpose,  Mr.  Maclaine,  who  but  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore was  not  ashamed  to  appear  in  a  patched  coat,  or 
to  carry  a  halfpenny-worth  of  coal  or  sand  to  his  cus- 
tomers, now  hired  handsome  apartments  near  Soho 
square,  and  resumed  his  laced  clothes,  and  a  hat  and 
feather. 

But,  however  unreasonable  to  others  this  sudden 
transition  from  the  grub  to  the  butterfly  might  appear, 
Mr.  Maclaine  had  very  good  private  reasons  for  his 
actions.  It  appears  that  during  his  wife's  last  illness, 
she  had  been  attended  by  one  Plunket,  as  a  surgeon 
and  apothecary;  this  Plunket,  after  the  decease  of  the 
poor  woman,  opened  his  mind  to  Maclaine,  saying, 
that  though  the  latter  had  lost  a  good  wife,  yet,  seeing 
that  she  was  gone,  it  was  of  no  use  to  despond  or  to 
repine,  particularly  as  it  might  eventually  turn  out  the 
most  lucky  circumstance  in  his  life.  He  added  at  the 
same  time,  that  if  Maclaine  would  agree  to  share  the 
fortune  with  him,  he  could  help  him  to  a  lady  with  ten 
thousand  pounds  at  least  in  her  own  right. 

This  motion  was  too  agreeable  to  Mr.  Maclaine  to  be 
rejected.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  detail  with  what 
zeal  this  affair  was  followed  up,  or  how  often  they  flat- 
tered themselves  with  the  deceitful  prospects  of  success. 
The  young  lady  having  been  taken  to  Wells,  Maclaine 
followed  her,  passing  for  a  man  of  fortune,  and  in  every 
part  of  his  dress  and  equipage  appearing  in  that  charac- 
ter. Plunket  acted  as  his  partner,  and  was  a  sort  of 
under  agent,  while  Maclaine  himself  was  ogling,  danc- 


JAMES    MACLA1NE.  235 

mg,  and  flirting  with  the  young  lady.  But  an  ill-timed 
quarrel  with  an  apothecary,  one  evening,  in  the  public 
room,  placed  a  quietus  upon  his  hopes  for  ever;  for  the 
disciple  of  Galen  enlisting  a  "  gallant  son  of  Mars"  in 
his  quarrel,  the  latter  had  the  effrontery  to  kick  our 
adventurer  down  stairs,  declaring  publicly  that  he 
knew  the  rascal  a  footman  a  few  years  ago.  This 
statement,  which  was  believed  by  every  body  present, 
amongst  whom  was  his  mistress,  whose  credulity  he 
had  ascertained  before,  and  was  therefore  not  in  a  situ- 
ation to  doubt,  compelled  him  and  his  footman  Plunket 
to  decamp  without  the  ceremony  of  leave-taking,  and, 
indeed,  without  any  ceremony  at  all. 

Returning  to  town  from  this  woeful  expedition,  and 
examining  the  state  of  their  cash,  these  faithful  friends 
discovered  that  five  guineas  were  the  whole  that  re- 
mained,— a  sum  too  little  to  support  them,  or  to  enter 
into  any  new  project,  or  to  keep  up  their  assumed 
grandeur.  Madame  now  found  himself  in  a  worse 
plight  than  he  had  brought  himself  to  for  some  years 
past,  without  any  visible  hope  of  a  supply,  and  yet 
engaged  in  a  mode  of  life  highly  expensive,  which  it 
went  to  his  heart  either  to  retrench  or  relinquish.  He 
now  thought  seriously  of  embarking  for  Jamaica,  where 
he  hoped  to  find  employment  as  an  accountant,  and 
flattered  himself  that  his  person  might  be  turned  to  ac- 
count amongst  the  rich  planters'  daughters  or  widows. 
But  no  money  was  forthcoming  for  this  purpose,  nor 
could  he  think  of  any  possible  scheme  whereby  it  might 
be  raised. 

Certainly,  never  had  man  less  cause  to  complain  of 
Fortune  than  Maclaine,  and  it  would  seem  throughout, 
his  life,  that  she  had  determined  to  make  his  ruin  en- 
tirely the  work  of  his  own  hand,  and  leave  him  at  last 
utterly  without  excuse  or  palliation  ;  for  meeting  on 
'Change  with  a  gentleman,  a  countryman  of  his  own, 
to  whom  he  had  formerly  related  his  hopes  of  making 
a  fortune  in  the  manner  we  have  related,  he  told  him 
his  situation  at  the  present  moment,  adding  that  he 
was  now  undone,  that  he  had  spent  his  all  in  that  un- 

10 


3$J  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

happy  project,  and  had  not  wherewithal  to  subsist  on 
here,  or  to  carry  him  from  a  place  in  which  he  felt  he 
was  cutting  a  very  ridiculous  figure.  Hereupon  the 
gentleman  spoke  in  his  behalf  to  some  others  of  his 
countrymen  ;  and  as  his  conduct  heretofore,  according 
the  notions  of  the  age,  had  been  rather  imprudent  than 
vicious,  they  actually  raised  sixty  guineas  to  fit  him 
out  for  Jamaica,  which  they  gave  him,  promising  him 
letters  of  recommendation  from  some  merchants  of  re- 
spectability to  their  own  correspondents.  Here,  then, 
was  a  prospect  at  once  opened  to  him  of  future  happi- 
ness and  prosperity.     Let  us  see  how  it  terminated. 

He  had  agreed  for  the  passage,  paid  part  of  the  mo- 
ney in  advance,  and  bespoken  some  necessaries  fitted 
for  the  climate,  when,  unhappily  for  the  infatuated 
man,  he  was  prompted  to  go  to  a  masquerade,  to  take 
leave,  as  he  said,  for  the  last  time,  of  the  bewitching 
pleasures  of  London,  and  to  bid  a  final  farewell  to  this 
species  of  enjoyment,  which  he  should  have  no  hope  of 
partaking  in  the  West  Indies.  He  went  with  the  whole 
of  his  money  in  his  pocket.  The  strange  appearance 
of  the  place  and  of  the  company  amused  him  for  a 
while,  but  the  noise  of  the  gamesters  drew  his  attention 
to  the  gaming-table,  where  the  quick  transition  of  large 
sums  from  one  hand  to  another  awakened  his  avarice, 
and  lulled  his  prudence  asleep.  In  short,  he  ventured, 
and  in  half  an  hour  had  possessed  himself  of  a  hundred 
guineas,  with  which  he  resolved,  according  to  their 
phrase,  "to  tie  up;"  but  avarice  had  now  attacked 
him ;  and  after  taking  a  turn  or  two  round  the  room, 
he  again  returned,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  stripped 
to  the  last  guinea. 

It  is  needless  to  describe  his  agony  on  this  occasion. 
His  money  gone,  his  expedition  utterly  disconcerted, 
and  his  friends  lost  past  redemption  !  What  was  now 
to  be  done  ? 

In  this  extremity,  his  evil  genius,  now  in  the  ascend 
ant,  prompted  him  to  send  to  Plunket  to  advise  with 
and  from  that  moment  his  ruin  commenced.    This  wai 
the  favorable  moment  for  Plunket.     Himself  a  man  of 


JAMES    MACLAINE.  237 

no  honor,  an  utter  stranger  to  all  ties  or  principles  of 
religion  or  honesty,  an  old  sharper,  and  a  daring  fellow 
into  the  bargain,  this  was  an  opportunity,  when  his 
friend  was  agitated  almost  to  madness,  to  propose,  at 
first  by  distant  hints,  and  at  last  in  plain  English,  go- 
ing on  the  highway. 

Had  he  approached  him  in  a  calm  hour,  it  is  more 
than  probable  that  his  proposal  had  been  rejected  with 
horror;  but  the  former  strongly  represented  the  neces- 
sity of  a  speedy  supply  before  his  friends  could  discover 
that  his  money  was  gone,  which,  he  said,  would  expose 
him  to  universal  scorn  and  contempt.  A  strange  in- 
fatuation, the  dread  of  shame — the  shame  of  appearing 
a  fool,  diminished  the  horror  of  being  a  villain,  and 
decided  him  to  recruit  his  losses  by  means  the  most 
hazardous  and  wicked. 

Having  agreed  upon  a  plan  of  copartnership,  and 
hired  two  horses,  Plunket  furnishing  the  pistols,  for 
this  was  not  his  first  entrance  upon  business  of  that 
nature,  they  set  out  on  the  evening  after  the  masque- 
rade, to  lie  in  wait  for  passengers  coming  from  Smith- 
field  market.  They  met  on  Hounslow  heath  with  a 
grazier,  next  morning  about  four  o'clock,  from  whom 
they  took,  without  opposition,  between  sixty  and  se- 
venty pounds. 

In  this,  and  other  expeditions  of  the  same  kind,  they 
wore  Venetian  masks ;  but  this  covering  could  not  stifle 
conscience  in  Maclaine,  nor  animate  him  into  courage. 
He  accompanied  Plunket,  it  is  true,  and  was  by  at 
the  robbery,  but,  strictly  speaking,  had  no  hand  in  it; 
for  his  fears  were  so  great  that  he  had  no  power  to 
utter  a  word,  or  to  draw  a  pistol.  The  least  resistance 
on  the  part  of  the  countryman  would  have  given  wings 
to  his  heels,  and  have  caused  him  to  leave  his  more 
daring  accomplice  in  the  lurch. 

Even  when  the  robbery  was  over,  and  the  country- 
man out  of  sight,  Maclaine's  fears  were  intolerable. 
He  followed  Plunket  for  some  miles  without  speaking 
a  word ;  and  when  they  put  up  at  an  inn,  nearly  ten 
miles  from  the  place  of  the  robbery,  he  called  for  a 


238  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

private  room,  fearful  of  every  shadow,  and  terrified  at 
every  sound.  His  agonies  of  mind  were  so  great,  that 
Plunket  was  fearful  that  his  folly  would  raise  suspicion 
in  the  house,  and  he  would  fain  have  persuaded  him  to 
return  immediately  to  London ;  but  he  would  not  stir 
till  it  was  dusk,  and  then  would  not  appear  at  the  sta- 
bles from  which  they  had  hired  the  horses,  but  left  the 
care  of  them  to  Plunket. 

He  was  now,  by  his  share  of  this  ill-acquired  booty, 
very  nearly  reimbursed  his  losses  at  the  masquerade, 
and  might  easily  have  undertaken  his  voyage ;  but  he 
had  lost  all  peace  of  mind,  and  was  become  entirely 
void  of  prudence.  So  great  was  his  dread  of  a  disco- 
very, though  Plunket  represented  the  impossibility  of 
it,  that  he  would  not  stir  out  of  his  room  for  some  days, 
and  even  then  did  not  think  himself  safe,  but  proposed 
going  down  to  the  country  for  a  week  or  two.  Plunket 
did  not  oppose  his  departure,  especially  as  he  was  to 
direct  the  route,  and  had  gotten  some  intimation  of  a 
prize  coming  that  day  from  St.  Alban's,  towards  which 
place  they  set  out.  When  they  had  gone  a  few  miles, 
Plunket  imparted  to  him  his  design,  which  Maclaine 
promised  to  second,  with  a  great  deal  of  reluctance. 
When  they  came  within  sight  of  the  coach,  in  which 
was  their  expected  K  oty,  Maclaine  would  have  per- 
suaded Plunket  to  desist;  but  the  other  turning  his 
qualms  of  conscience  into  ridicule,  and  dropping  some 
hints  of  cowardice,  Maclaine  prepared  for  the  attack, 
crying,  "  He  needs  must  whom  the  devil  drives.  I  am 
over  shoes,  and  must  over  boots ;"  but,  notwithstand- 
ing, conducted  himself  in  so  distracted  a  manner  as 
went  nigh  to  lose  them  their  prey.  They  took,  how- 
ever, from  a  gentleman  and  a  lady  in  the  coach  two 
gold  watches,  and  about  twenty  pounds  in  money,  with 
which  they  got  clear  off;  but  did  not  think  fit  to  keep 
that  road  any  longer,  but  turned  off,  and  before  morn- 
ing put  up  at  an  inn  at  Richmond,  where  Maclaine 
was  as  much  in  the  horrors  as  in  London  ;  had  no  rest, 
no  peace  of  mind,  and  stayed  there  two  or  three  days, 
sulky,  sullen,  and  perplexed  as  to  what  course  he  was 


JAMES    MACLAINE.  239 

to  pursue.  His  wish,  however,  to  be  in  town  in  time 
for  the  ship's  departure  for  Jamaica,  determined  him  to 
return  to  London  in  a  foitnight,  when  he  found  that  the 
ship  had  sailed  two  days  before, — a  disappointment 
that  added  to  his  former  perplexity.  Nevertheless, 
having  money  in  his  pocket,  he  contrived  to  excuse 
himself  to  his  friends  for  his  untoward  absence,  and 
promised,  and  seriously  designed,  to  set  out  on  the  very 
next  opportunity. 

But  the  expensive  company  he  kept  in  the  interim, 
and  further  losses  at  play,  once  more  stripped  him  of 
his  money;  and  his  evil  genius,  Plunket,  was  ever  at 
his  elbow,  ready  to  suggest  the  former  method  of  sup- 
ply, with  which  he  now  complied  much  less  reluctantly 
than  before.  The  bounds  of  honor  once  overstepped, 
especially  when  success  and  security  attend  the  villany, 
the  habit  of  vice  grows  strong;  and  the  checks  of  con- 
science, gradually  less  regarded,  at  length  pass  without 
notice.  In  a  word,  Maclaine  hardened  himself  by  de- 
grees to  villany,  left  the  company  of  his  city  acquaint- 
ance that  they  might  not  tease  him  about  his  voyage 
to  Jamaica,  and  took  lodgings  in  St.  James  street,  a 
place  excellently  suited  to  his  purpose,  for  his  appear- 
ance glanced  off  all  suspicion,  and  he  had  a  favorable 
opportunity,  when  gentlemen  came  to  town,  of  know- 
ing and  watching  their  motions,  and  consequently  of 
following  and  waylaying  them  on  the  road. 

In  the  space  of  six  months,  he  and  Plunket,  some- 
times in  company  and  sometimes  separately,  committed 
fifteen  or  sixteen  robberies  in  Hyde  Park,  and  within 
twenty  miles  of  London,  and  obtained  some  large 
prizes.  But  still  the  money  went  as  it  came,  for  Plun- 
ket loved  his  bottle  and  intrigue,  and  Maclaine  was 
doatingly  fond  of  fine  clothes,  balls,  and  masquerades, 
at  all  which  places  he  made  a  conspicuous  figure.  As 
he  still  had  fortune-hunting  in  view,  he  was  very  assi- 
duous in  his  attentions  to  women,  and  was  not  altoge- 
ther unsuccessful ;  but,  we  imagine,  made  sincere  re- 
turn to  none  but  such  as  had  money  in  their  own  hands, 
or  could  be  useful  in  helping  him  to  an  introduction  to 
such  as  had. 


240  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

And  here  it  were  needless  and  not  productive  of 
much  interest  to  recount  several  intrigues  in  which 
Maclaine  was  engaged,  and  it  were  not  a  little  painful 
to  narrate  two  instances  of  wanton  seduction  on  his 
part;  which,  were  there  no  other  counts  in  the  moral 
indictment  against  him,  would  be  sufficient  to  consign 
him  to  eternal  infamy. 

Mr.  Maclaine  applied  himself  also  to  his  old  profes- 
sion of  fortune-hunting,  and,  in  company  with  his  old 
and  worthy  coadjutor  Plunket,  made  several  attempts 
to  entrap  heiresses,  all  of  which  proved  abortive.  While 
he  was  intent  upon  these  schemes,  he  had  no  opportu- 
nity of  making  excursions  on  the  road,  and  to  defray 
his  expenses  had  borrowed  from  a  citizen's  wife,  with 
whom  he  had  an  intrigue,  about  twenty  pounds,  which 
he  promised  faithfully  to  repay  before  her  husband 
should,  return  from  the  country.  The  time  of  the  citi- 
zen's arrival  being  at  hand,  the  good  wife  became  ex- 
ceedingly curious  about  the  coin ;  and  as  a  similar 
favor  might  be  wanted  by  him  at  a  future  time,  Mr. 
Maclaine  made  it  a  point  of  conscience  to  keep  his 
word  with  her,  and  appointed  her  to  come  to  him  at 
his  country  lodgings  at  Chelsea,  where  he  paid  her  the 
money.  He,  however,  took  care  that  his  friend  Plun- 
ket should  ease  her  of  the  trouble  of  carrying  it  home, 
by  waylaying  her  in  the  Five-fields. 

Soon  after  this,  a  supply  of  cash  being  wanted,  Plun- 
ket and  he  prepared  for  an  expedition,  and  took  the 
road  to  Chester ;  and  in  three  days  committed  five  rob- 
beries between  Stony  Stratford  and  Whitechurch,  one 
of  which  was  upon  an  intimate  acquaintance,  by  whom 
Maclaine  had  been  handsomely  entertained  but  two 
days  before.  However,  the  booty  in  the  whole  five 
robberies  did  not  amount  to  thirty  pounds  in  cash,  but 
they  had  watches,  rings,  &c.  to  a  much  greater  amount. 
On  the  very  evening  of  their  return  to  town,  they  ob- 
tained information  that  an  officer  in  the  East  India 
company's  service  had  received  a  large  sum  of  money, 
with  which  he  was  about  to  return  to  Greenwich. 
They  waylaid  and  robbed  him  of  a  very  considerable 


JAMES    MACLAINE.  241 

sum,  and  it  would  seem  that  on  this  occasion  they  were 
under  some  dread  of  a  discovery ;  for,  in  a  few  days 
after  the  commission  of  it,  Maclaine  set  out  for  the 
Hague,  and  Plunket  for  Ireland. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  former  at  the  Hague,  he  pre- 
tended a  friendly  visit  to  his  brother,  who  received  him 
with  cordiality  and  affection,  and  as  honesty  is  never 
suspicious,  he  was  easily  induced  to  give  credit  to  the 
specious  tale  which  his  brother  related  to  him.  He 
told  him  that  he  had  got  a  considerable  fortune  with 
his  late  wife,  and  that  her  father,  who  died  some  few 
months  before,  had  left  him  a  valuable  legacy,  with 
which  he  designed  to  purchase  a  company  in  the  army. 
Upon  that,  and  the  interest  of  his  other  funds,  he  said, 
he  hoped  to  live  at  ease  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 
His  worthy  brother,  rejoicing  in  his  prosperity,  intro- 
duced him  to  his  acquaintance  and  friends,  amongst 
whom  Mr.  Maclaine  behaved  with  great  politeness, 
giving  balls  and  large  parties ;  to  pay  for  which,  it  is 
surmised,  he  had  the  art  to  extract  the  gold  watches 
and  purses  of  his  guests  without  suspicion. 

However,  upon  his  arrival  in  London,  to  which 
place  he  had  been  induced  to  return  by  a  letter  from 
Plunket,  informing  him  of  another  rich  matrimonial 
prize,  which  was,  as  usual,  beyond  his  reach  or  above 
his  ingenuity  to  ensnare ; — he  again  appears  to  have 
taken  up  his  old  thoughts  of  preparing  for  Jamaica,  as 
a  last  resource.  But  these  thoughts  did  not  long  pos- 
sess him ;  for  though  by  the  sale  of  his  horses  and  fur- 
niture he  might  have  fitted  himself  for  the  West  Indies 
in  a  very  genteel  manner,  and  had  still  reputation 
enough  left  to  have  procured  sufficient  recommenda- 
tions from  home ;  yet  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  try  his 
fate  on  the  road  once  more,  and  was  but  too  successful, 
making  several  rich  prizes.  Amongst  the  rest  he  and 
Plunket  robbed  Horace  Walpole,*  and  on   a  reward 

*  In  the  very  amusing  Letters  of  Horace  Walpole  to  Sir  Horace 
Mann,  recently  published,  we  find  the  following  spirited  and  lively 
sketch  of  Maclaine. 

u 


242  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

being  advertised  for  the  watch  which  they  had  taken 
from  him,  Plunket  had  the  impudence  to  go  and  receive 
u  himself,  choosing  to  run  the  risk  rather  than  trust  a 
third  person  with  their  hazardous  secret.  But  all  hu- 
man prudence  is  in  vain  to  stop  the  hand  of  justice, 
when  once  the  measure  of  our  iniquity  is  full ;  our 
closest  secrets  take  wind,  we  know  not  how ;  and  our 
own  folly   acts  the   part  of  an   informer  to  awaken 

"I  have  been  in  town  for  a  day  or  two,  and  heard  no  conversation 
but  about  M'Laine,  a  fashionable  highwayman,  who  is  just  taken,  and 
who  robbed  me  among  others ;  as  lord  Eglinton,  Sir  Thomas  Robin- 
son of  Vienna,  Mrs.  Talbot,  See.  He  took  an  odd  booty  from  the 
Scotch  earl,  a  blunderbuss,  which  lies  very  formidable  upon  the  jus- 
tice's table.  He  was  taken  by  selling  a  laced  waistcoat  to  a  pawnbro- 
ker, who  happened  to  carry  it  to  the  very  man  who  had  just  sold  the 
lace.  His  history  is  very  particular,  for  he  confesses  every  thing,  and 
is  so  little  of  a  hero,  that  he  cries  and  begs,  and  I  believe,  if  lord 
Eglinton  had  been  in  any  luck,  might  have  been  robbed  of  his  own 
blunderbuss.  His  father  was  an  Irish  dean  ;  his  brother  is  a  Calvinist 
minister  in  great  esteem  at  the  Hague.  He  himself  was  a  grocer,  but 
losing  a  wife  that  he  loved  extremely  about  two  years  ago,  and  by 
whom  he  has  one  little  girl,  he  quitted  his  business  with  two  hundred 
pounds  in  his  pocket,  which  he  soon  spent,  and  then  took  to  the  road 
with  only  one  companion,  Plunket,  a  journeyman  apothecary,  my 
other  friend,  whom  he  has  impeached,  but  who  is  not  taken.  M'Laine 
had  a  lodging  in  St.  James'  street  over  against  White's,  and  another  at 
Chelsea ;  Plunket  one  in  Jermyn  street  ;  and  their  faces  are  as  known 
about  St.  James'  as  any  gentleman's  who  lives  in  that  quarter,  and 
who  perhaps  goes  upon  the  road  too.  M'Laine  had  a  quarrel  at  Putney 
bowling-green  two  months  ago  with  an  officer,  whom  he  challenged  for 
disputing  his  crank;  but  the  captain  declined,  till  M'Laine  should 
produce  a  certificate  of  his  nobility,  which  he  has  just  received.  If  he 
had  escaped  a  month  longer,  he  might  have  heard  of  Mr.  Chute's 
genealogical  expeitness,  and  come  hither  to  the  College  of  Arms  for  a 
certificate.  There  was  a  wardrobe  of  clothes,  three  and  twenty  purses, 
and  the  celebrated  blunderbuss,  found  at  his  lodgings,  besides  a  famous 
kept  mistress.  As  I  conclude  he  will  suffer,  and  wish  him  no  ill,  I 
do  n't  care  to  have  his  idea,  and  am  almost  single  in  not  having  been 
to  ;>ee  him.  Lord  Mountford,  at  the  head  of  half  White's,  went  the 
first  day  :  his  aunt  was  crying  over  him  :  as  soon  as  they  were  with- 
drawn, she  said  to  him,  knowing  they  were  of  White's,  'My  dear,  what 
did  the  lords  say  to  you?  have  you  ever  been  concerned  with  any  of 
them?'  Was  it  not  admirable  ?  what  a  favorable  idea  people  must 
have  of  White's  ! — and  what  if  White's  should  not  deserve  a  much 
better  !  But  the  chief  personages  who  have  been  to  comfort  and  weep 
over  this  fallen  hero  are  lady  Caroline  Petersham  and  Miss  Ashe :  I 
call  them  Polly  and  Lucy,  and  asked  them  if  he  did  not  sing,  ■  'Jhus  I 
itand  like  the  Turk  with  his  doxies  around.'  " 


JAMES    MACLAINE.  243 

o'fended  justice.  The  crisis  of  Maclaine's  fate  was  at 
hand.  It  was  he  who  proposed  his  last  excursion  to 
Plimket,  who  was  ill  at  the  time,  and  was  very  unwil- 
ling to  turn  out ;  but  Maclaine,  impelled  by  some  un- 
common impulse,  urged  him  so  earnestly,  that  he  at 
length  complied.  They  came  up.  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  near  Turnham  Green,  with  the  Salisbury 
srage-coach,  in  which  five  men  and  a  woman  were 
passengers.  Though  this  was  Maclaine's  expedition, 
yet  Plunket  was  the  acting  man,  and  obliged  all  the 
men  to  come  out  of  the  coach  one  by  one,  and  rifled 
them;  and  then,  putting  his  pistol  in  his  pocket,  lest 
he  should  frighten  the  icidy,  without  forcing  her  out  of 
the  coach,  he  took  what  she  offered  without  further 
search.  Plunket  would  now  have  gone  off;  but  Mac- 
laine, full  of  his  fate,  demanded  the  cloak-bags  out  of 
the  boot  of  the  coach ;  each  of  them  took  one  before 
him  and  rode  off,  bidding  a  polite  adieu  to  the  passen- 
gers, and  riding  as  deliberately  as  though  they  had 
been  performing  some  signal  service. 

On  the  same  morning  they  met  and  robbed  lord 
Eglinton,  who  was  the  prize  for  whom  they  originally 
went  out.  They  effected  this  by  a  stratagem,  as  his 
lordship  was  armed  with  a  blunderbuss.  One  of  them 
screened  himself  behind  the  postboy,  so  that  if  his 
lordship  fired  he  must  shoot  his  servant,  while  the 
other  with  a  pistol  cocked  demanded  his  money,  and 
ordered  him  to  throw  his  blunderbuss  on  the  ground. 
But,  it  appears,  the  prize  obtained  at  this  hazard  was 
but  seven  guineas,  with  which,  and  the  cloak-bags, 
they  returned  to  Maclaine's  lodgings  before  the  family 
were  up,  and  divided  their  spoil. 

But  though  the  clothes  were  described  in  the  public 
papers,  yet  so  infatuated  was  Maclaine,  that  he  sold 
his  share  of  the  booty  to  a  salesman,  who  instantly 
recognised  them  as  belonging  to  a  Mr.  Higden,  and  the 
latter  immediately  had  Maclaine  taken  into  custody. 

On  his  first  examination  he  denied  the  fact,  but 
afterwards,  that  he  might  leave  himself.no  room  to 
escape,  he  formed  a  design  of  saving  his  life  by  im- 


244  LIVES  OV  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

peaching  his  accomplice  Plunket,  foolishly  imagining 
that  justice  would  promise  life  to  a  villain  she  had  in 
custody,  for  impeaching  another  that  was  out  of  her 
reach.  But  "Quern  Deus  vult  perdere  prius  demen- 
tat,"  or,  to  express  a  similar  sentiment  in  the  words  of 
Massinger, — 

"  Here  is  a  precedent  to  teach  wicked  men, 
That  when  they  leave  religion  and  turn  atheists 
Their  own  abilities  leave  'em." 

For  though  he  was  forewarned  that  a  confession,  with- 
out impeaching  a  number  of  accomplices,  would  not 
avail  him,  he  still  insisted  upon  taking  that  step,  not 
from  compunction  or  remorse,  but  with  the  base  design 
of  saving  his  own  life  at  the  expense  of  that  of  his 
quondam  friend. 

On  his  second  examination  he  delivered  his  confes- 
sion in  writing,  and  behaved  in  a  most  dastardly  man- 
ner, whimpering  and  crying  like  a  whipped  school-boy 
This  conduct,  degrading  as  it  was,  drew  sympathetic 
tears  from,  and  opened  the  purses  of  his  fair  audience, 
whose  bounty  supported  him  in  great  affluence  while 
he  remained  in  the  Gatehouse,  and  whose  kind  offers 
of  intercession  gave  him  hopes  of  a  free  pardon. 

On  his  trial,  he  thought  fit  to  retract  his  confession, 
pretending  that  he  was  flurried,  and  in  some  measure 
delirious,  when  he  made  it,  and  that  he  had  received 
the  clothes  from  Plunket  in  payment  of  a  debt.  But 
this  evasion  had  no  weight  with  the  jury,  who  brought 
him  in  guilty  without  going  out  of  court. 

On  receiving  sentence,  guilt,  shame  and  dread  de- 
prived him  of  the  power  of  speech,  and  disabled  him 
from  reading  a  paper,  pathetically  enough  composed, 
in  which  he  prayed  for  mercy. 

In  Newgate,  ample  time  was  permitted  him  to  make 
his  peace  with  his  offended  Maker,  and  there  is  every 
evidence  to  believe,  from  the  testimony  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Alien,  who  attended  him  constantly  to  the  last  moment 
of  his  life,  that  his  remorse  and  contrition  were  unaf- 
fected,  sincere  and  strong. 

He  was  carried  to  Tyburn  in  a  cart,  like  the  rest  ol 


EUGENE    ARAM.  245 

the  criminals,  and  not,  as  was  expected,  in  a  coach ; 
he  stood  the  gaze  of  the  multitude  (which  was  on  this 
occasion  almost  infinite)  without  the  least  concern; 
his  thoughts  were  steadfast  in  his  devotion,  and  when 
he  was  about  to  be  turned  off  he  said,  "  O  God,  forgive 
my  enemies,  bless  my  friends,  and  receive  my  soul !" 
His  execution  took  place  on  Wednesday,  October  3, 
1750. 


EUGENE  ARAM. 


The  accounts  of  the  life  of  this  man  have  become  of 
late  so  widely  circulated,  and  the  particulars  respecting 
the  murder  of  which  he  was  the  perpetrator  so  gene- 
rally known,  that  any  notice  of  him  in  this  work 
would  appear  almost  supererogatory,  were  it  not  that 
a  charge  of  oversight  and  omission  could,  without  in- 
justice, be  reasonably  advanced  against  it,  were  we  to 
slight  over  or  leave  unmentioned  a  name  so  notorious. 
We  shall,  therefore,  give  a  summary  of  his  history, 
commencing  with  an  account  of  his  family  and  early 
life,  furnished  by  himself  at  the  request  of  the  two  gen- 
tlemen who,  at  his  own  particular  desire,  attended  him 
at  his  condemnation. 

"1  was  born  at  Ramsgill,  a  little  village  in  Nether- 
dale,  in  1704.  My  maternal  relations  had  been  sub- 
stantial and  reputable  in  that  dale,  for  a  great  many 
generations :  my  father  was  of  Nottinghamshire,  a 
gardener,  of  great  abilities  in  botany,  and  an  excellent 
draughtsman.  He  served  the  right  reverend  bishop  of 
London,  Dr.  Compton,  with  great  approbation;  which 
occasioned  his  being  recommended  to  Newby,  in  this 
county,  to  Sir  Edward  Blackett,  whom  he  served  in 
the  capacity  of  gardener,  with  much  credit  to  himself, 
and  satisfaction  to  that  family,  for  above  thirty  years. 
Upon  the  decease  of  that  baronet,  he  went,  and  was 


246  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

retained  in  the  service  of  Sir  John  Tngilby,  of  Ripley, 
Bart.,  where  he  died;  respected  when  living,  and  la- 
mented when  dead.  My  father's  ancestors  were  of 
great  antiquity  and  consideration  in  the  county,  and 
originally  British.  Their  surname  is  local,  for  they 
were  formerly  lords  of  the  town  of  Haram,  or  Aram, 
on  the  southern  banks  of  the  Tees,  and  opposite  to 
Sockburn,  in  Bishopric  ;  and  appear  in  the  records  of 
St.  Mary's,  at  York,  among  many  charitable  names, 
early  and  considerable  benefactors  to  that  abbey. 
They,  many  centuries  ago,  removed  from  these  parts, 
and  were  settled  under  the  fee  of  the  lords  Mowbray, 
in  Nottinghamshire,  at  Haram  or  Aram  Park,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Newark  upon  Trent ;  where  they 
were  possessed  of  no  less  than  three  knights'  fees  in 
the  reign  of  Edward  the  Third.  Their  lands,  I  find 
not  whether  by  purchase  or  marriage,  came  into  the 
hands  of  the  present  lord  Lexington.  While  the  name 
existed  in  the  county,  some  of  them  were  several  times 
high  sheriffs  for  the  county ;  and  one  was  professor  of 
divinity,  if  I  remember  right,  at  Oxford,  and  died  at 
York.  The  last  of  the  chief  of  this  family  was  Thomas 
Aram,  Esq.  of  Gray's  inn,  and  one  of  the  commission- 
ers of  the  salt  office,  under  queen  Anne.  He  married 
one  of  the  co-heiresses  of  Sir  John  Coningsby,  of  North 
Mimms,  in  Hertfordshire.  His  seat,  which  was  his 
own  estate,  was  at  the  Wild,  near  Shenley,  in  Hert- 
fordshire, where  I  saw  him,  and  where  he  died  without 
issue. 

"  I  was  removed  very  young,  along  with  my  mother, 
to  Skelton,  near  Newby ;  and  thence,  at  five  or  six 
years  old,  my  father  making  a  little  purchase  at  Bond- 
gate,  near  Ripon,  his  family  went  thither.  There  J 
went  to  school;  where  I  was  made  capable  of  reading 
the  Testament,  which  was  ,#11  I  was  ever  taught,  ex- 
cept, a  long  time  after,  for  about  a  month,  in  a  very 
advanced  age  for  that,  with  the  reverend  Mr.  Alcock, 
of  Burnsal. 

"After  this,  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  of  age, 
I  went  to  mv  father  at  Newby,  and  attended  him  in 


EUGENE    ARAM.  247 

the  family  there,  till  the  death  of  Sir  Edward  Blackett. 
It  was  here  my  propensity  to  literature  first  appeared, 
for  being  always  of  a  solitary  disposition,  and  uncom- 
monly fond  of  retirement  and  books,  I  enjoyed  here  all 
the  repose  and  opportunity  I  could  wish.  My  study  at 
that  time  was  engaged  in  the  mathematics:  I  know 
not  wYiat  my  acquisitions  were,  but  I  am  certain  my 
application  was  intense  and  unwearied.  I  found  in 
my  father's  library  there,  which  contained  a  very  great 
number  of  hooks  in  most  branches,  Kersey's  Algebra, 
Leybourn's  Cursus  Mathematicus,  Ward's  Young  Ma- 
thematician's Guide,  Harris'  Algebra,  &c.  and  a  great 
many  more;  but  these  being  the  books  in  which  I  was 
ever  most  conversant,  I  remember  them  the  better.  I 
was  even  then  equal  to  the  management  of  quadratic 
equations,  and  their  geometrical  constructions.  After 
we  left  Newby,  I  repeated  the  same  studies  in  Bond- 
gate,  and  went  over  all  parts  I  had  studied  before,  I 
believe  not  altogether  unsuccessfully. 

"  Being  about  the  age  of  sixteen,  I  was  sent  for  to 
London,  being  thought,  upon  examination  by  Mr. 
Christopher  Blackett,  qualified  to  serve  him  as  book- 
keeper in  his  counting-house.  Here,  after  a  year  or 
two,  I  took  the  small-pox  and  suffered  most  severely 
under  that  distemper.  I  returned  home  again,  and 
there  with  leisure  on  my  hands,  and  a  new  addition  of 
authors  to  those  brought  me  from  Newby,  I  renewed 
not  only  my  mathematical  studies,  but  began  and  pro- 
secuted others,  of  a  different  turn,  with  much  avidity 
and  diligence.  These  were  poetry,  history,  and  anti- 
quities; the  charms  of  which  quite  destroyed  all  the 
heavier  beauties  of  numbers  in  lines,  whose  applica- 
tions and  properties  I  now  pursued  no  longer,  except 
occasionally  in  teaching. 

"I  was,  after  some  time  employed  in  this  manner, 
invited  into  Netherdale,  my  native  air,  where  I  first 
engaged  in  a  school,  and  where,  unfortunately  enough 
for  me,  I  married.  The  misconduct  of  the  wife  which 
that  place  afforded  me,  has  procured  me  this  prosecu- 
tion, this  prison,  this  infamy,  and  this  sentence. 


248  MVES    OF    HIGHWAYMEN    AND    ROBBERS. 

"  During  my  marriage  here,  perceiving  the  deficien- 
cies in  my  education,  and  sensible  of  my  want  of  the 
learned  languages,  and  prompted  by  an  irresistible 
covetousness  of  knowledge,  I  commenced  a  series  of 
studies  in  that  way,  and  undertook  the  tediousness  of 
the  intricacies  and  the  labor  of  grammar;  I  selected 
Lilly  from  the  rest,  all  of  which  I  got  and  repeated  by 
heart.  The  task  of  repeating  it  all  every  day  was  im- 
possible while  I  attended  the  school ;  so  I  divided  it 
into  portions;  by  which  method  it  was  pronounced 
thrice  every  week,  and  this  I  performed  for  years. 

"I  next  became  acquainted  with  Camden's  Greek 
Grammar,  which  I  also  repeated  in  the  same  manner, 
memoriter.  Thus  instructed,  I  entered  upon  the  Latin 
classics,  whose  allurements  repaid  my  assiduities  and 
my  labors.  I  remember  to  have,  at  first,  overhung  five 
lines  for  a  whole  day ;  and  never,  in  all  the  painful 
course  of  my  reading,  left  any  one  passage  till  I  did,  or 
thought  I  did,  perfectly  comprehend  it. 

"  After  I  had  accurately  perused  every  one  of  the 
Latin  classics,  historians  and  poets,  I  went  through  the 
Greek  Testament,  first  parsing  every  word  as  I  pro- 
ceeded ;  next  I  ventured  upon  Hesiod,  Homer,  Theo- 
critus, Herodotus,  Thucydides,  and  all  the  Greek  tra- 
gedians :  a  tedious  labor  was  this ;  but  my  former 
acquaintance  with  history  lessened  it  extremely,  be- 
cause it  threw  light  upon  many  passages,  which  with- 
out that  assistance  must  have  appeared  obscure. 

"  In  the  midst  of  these  literary  pursuits  a  man  and 
horse  from  my  good  friend  William  Norton,  Esq.,  came 
for  me  from  Knaresborough.  bearing  that  gentleman's 
letter  inviting  me  thither;  and  accordingly  I  repaired 
there  in  some  part  of  the  year  1734,  and  was,  I  believe, 
well  accepted  and  esteemed  there.  Here,  not  satisfied 
with  my  former  acquisitions,  I  prosecuted  the  attain- 
ment of  Hebrew,  and  with  indefatigable  diligence.  I 
had  BuxtorfT's  grammar,  but  that  being  perplexed,  or 
not  explicit  enough,  at  least  in  my  opinion  at  that  time, 
I  collected  no  less  than  eight  or  ten  different  grammars  • 
and  thus  one  very  often  supplied  the  omissions  of  the 


EUGENE    ARAM.  249 

others,  and  was,  I  found,  of  extraordinary  advantage. 
Then  I  purchased  the  Bible  in  the  original  and  read 
the  whole  Pentateuch,  with  an  intention  to  go  through 
the  whole  of  it,  which  I  attempted,  but  wanted  time. 

"  In  April,  I  think  the  18th,  1744,  I  went  again  to 
London,  and  agreed  to  teach  the  Latin  and  writing,  for 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Painblanc,  in  Piccadilly,  which  he,  along 
with  a  salary,  returned,  by  teaching  me  French ; 
wherein  I  observed  the  pronunciation  the  most  formi- 
dable part,  at  least  to  me,  who  had  never  before  known 
a  word  of  it.  By  continued  application  every  night 
and  every  opportunity,  I  overcame  this,  and  soon  be- 
came a  tolerable  master  of  French.  I  remained  in  this 
situation  two  years  and  above. 

"  Some  time  after  this  I  went  to  Hays,  in  the  capaci- 
ty of  writing-master,  and  served  a  gentlewoman  there, 
since  dead;  and  stayed,  after  that,  with  a  worthy  and 
reverend  gentleman.  I  continued  here  between  three 
and  four  years.  To  several  other  places  I  then  suc- 
ceeded, and  all  that  while  used  every  occasion  for  im- 
provement. I  then  transcribed  acts  of  parliament  to  be 
registered  in  chancery;  and  after  went  down  to  the 
free-school  at  Lynn. 

"  From  my  leaving  Knaresborough  to  this  time  is  a 
long  interval,  which  I  had  filled  up  with  the  farther 
study  of  history  and  antiquities,  heraldry  and  botany; 
in  the  last  of  which  I  was  very  agreeably  entertained, 
there  being  in  that  study  so  extensive  a  display  of  na- 
ture. I  well  knew  Toi.mefort,  Ray,  Miller,  Linnaeus, 
&-C.  I  made  frequent  visits  to  the  botanic  garden  at 
Chelsea ;  and  traced  pleasure  through  a  thousand  fields  : 
at  last,  few  plants,  domestic  or  exotic,  were  unknown 
to  me.  Amidst  all  this  I  ventured  upon  the  Chaldeo 
and  Arabic ;  and,  with  a  design  to  understand  them, 
supplied  myself  with  Erpenius,  Chappelow,  and  others : 
but  I  had  not  time  to  obtain  any  great  knowledge  of 
the  Arabic ;  the  Chaldee  I  found  easy  enough,  because 
of  its  connection  with  the  Hebrew. 

u  I  then  investigated  the  Celtic,  as  far  as  possible,  in 
all  its  dialects ;  began  collections,  and  made  compari- 


250  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  UOBBERS. 

sons  between  that,  the  English,  the  Latin,  the  Greek, 
and  even  the  Hebrew.  I  had  made  notes,  and  com- 
pared above  three  thousand  of  these  together,  and 
found  such  a  surprising  affinity,  even  beyond  any  ex- 
pectation or  conception,  that  I  was  determined  to  pro- 
ceed through  the  whole  of  these  languages,  and  form  a 
comparative  lexicon,  which  I  hoped  would  account  for 
numberless  vocables  in  use  with  us,  the  Latins,  and 
Greeks,  before  concealed  and  unobserved :  this,  or 
something  like  it,  was  the  design  of  a  clergyman  of 
great  erudition  in  Scotland ;  but  it  must  prove  abortive, 
for  he  died  before  he  executed  it,  and  most  of  my  books 
and  papers  are  now  scattered  and  lost." 

Such  is  the  account  Eugene  Aram  has  given  of  him- 
self, until  the  commission  of  the  fatal  act  that  brought 
down  upon  him  the  execration  of  the  world  and  the 
last  vengeance  of  the  law.  Of  all  the  crimes  man  is 
capable  of  committing,  there  is  none  so  offensive  to 
Omnipotence  as  murder ;  and  the  Almighty,  therefore, 
seems  to  be  more  intent  to  expose  that  heinous  and  ac- 
cursed offence  to  mankind ;  to  warn  and  admonish 
them,  to  show  them  that  rocks  cannot  hide,  nor  dis- 
tance secure  them  from  the  inevitable  consequences  of 
the  violation  of  that  law  which  nature  dictates  and 
man  confirms.  The  extraordinary  means  by  which 
this  murder  was  brought  to  light,  is  one  of  the  many 
instances  of  this  divine  interposition. 

Daniel  Clark  was  born  at  Knaresborough,  of  reputa- 
ble parents,  where  he  lived  and  followed  the  business 
of  a  shoemaker.  About  the  month  of  January,  1744  or 
5,  he  married,  and  became  possessed  of  property  to  the 
amount  of  two  or  three  hundred  pounds.  He  was  at 
that  time  in  very  good  credit  at  Knaresborough,  and  it 
is  supposed  a  scheme  was  then  laid  by  Eugene  Aram, 
at  that  tim3  a  schoolmaster  in  the  town,  and  one 
Houseman,  a  flax-dresser,  to  defraud  several  trades- 
men of  great  quantities  of  goods  and  plate,  Clark  hav- 
ing been  chosen  as  the  fittest  person  to  carry  their  plan 
into  execution  ;  for,  as  he  then  lived  in  very  good  repu- 
tation, and,  moreover,  was  lately  married,  he  was  the 


EUGENE    ARAM.  251 

person  of  all  others  best  calculated  to  effect  the  intend- 
ed purpose.  Accordingly,  Clark  for  some  days  went 
about  to  various  tradesmen  in  the  town,  and  under  the 
pretext  that,  as  he  wavS  just  married,  it  was  not  altoge- 
ther irrational  to  suppose  that  cloth,  and  table  and  bed- 
linen,  would  considerably  contribute  to  his  matrimonial 
comfort,  he  took  up  great  quantities  of  linen  and  wool- 
len-drapery goods;  the  worthy  dealers  of  Knaresbo- 
rough  rendering  up  their  commodities  with  the  greatest 
zeal  and  expedition  on  so  interesting  an  occasion.  Af- 
ter this,  he  went  to  several  innkeepers  and  others, 
desiring  to  borrow  a  silver  tankard  of  one,  a  nicely- 
worked  silver  pint  of  another,  and  the  like,  alleging 
that  he  was  to  have  company  that  night,  and  should 
be  glad  of  the  use  of  them  at  supper*  and  in  order  to 
give  a  color  to  his  story,  he  procured  of  the  innkeepers 
(of  whom  he  had  borrowed  the  plate)  ale  and  other 
liquors  to  regale  his  visitors. 

Some  suspicious  circumstances,  however,  appearing 
that  night  and  the  following  morning,  a  rumor  got 
wind  that  Clark  had  absconded;  and  upon  inquiry, 
most  certainly,  he  was  not  to  be  found.  An  active 
search  was  immediately  made  for  the  goods  and  plate 
with  which  he  had  provided  himself,  when  some  part 
of  the  goods  was  found  at  Houseman's  house,  and  an- 
other part  dug  up  in  Aram's  garden ;  but  as  no  plate 
could  be  found  it  was  concluded,  somewhat  naturally, 
that  with  them  Clark  had  decamped.  The  strictest 
inquiry  was  instantly  set  on  foot  to  discover  his  retreat; 
persons  were  despatched  to  all  parts :  advertisements 
describing  his  person  inserted  in  all  the  papers ;  but  to 
no  purpose. 

Eugene  Aram  being  suspected  to  be  an  accomplice, 
a  process  was  granted  against  him  by  the  steward  of 
the  honor  of  Knaresborough  tc  arrest  him  for  a  debt 
due  to  a  Mr.  Norton,  with  a  view  to  detain  him  till 
such  time  as  a  warrant  could  be  obtained  from  the  jus- 
tice of  the  peace  to  apprehend  him  upon  that  charge. 
To  the  surprise  of  all,  however,  the  money  was  in- 
stantly paid,  and  moreover,  at  the  same  time,  a  consi- 


252  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

derable  mortgage  upon  his  house  at  Bondgate  was 
also  discharged.  Soon  afterwards,  Aram  left  the  town, 
and  was  not  heard  of  until  the  month  of  June,  1758, 
when  the  murder  of  Clark  being  traced  to  him,  he  was 
found  residing  at  Lynn. 

Upwards  of  thirteen  years  after  Clark's  disappear- 
ance, it  happened  that  a  laborer  employed  in  digging 
for  stone  to  supply  a  lime-kiln,  at  a  place  called  This- 
tle hill,  near  Knaresborough,  striking  about  half  a  yard 
and  half  a  quarter  deep,  turned  up  an  arm  bone  and 
the  small  bone  of  the  leg  of  a  human  skeleton.  His 
curiosity  being  excited,  he  carefully  removed  the  earth 
round  about  the  place,  and  discovered  all  the  bones 
belonging  to  a  body,  presenting  an  appearance,  from 
their  position,  as  though  the  body  had  been  doubled  at 
the  hips,  though  the  bones  were  all  perfect.  This  re- 
markable accident  being  rumored  in  the  town,  gave 
rise  to  a  suspicion  that  Daniel  Clark  had  been  murder- 
ed and  buried  there;  for  no  other  person  had  been 
missing  thereabouts  for  sixty  years  and  upwards. 
The  coroner  was  instantly  informed,  and  an  inquest 
summoned. 

The  wife  of  Eugene  Aram,  who  had  frequently  be- 
fore given  hints  of  her  suspicions,  was  now  examined. 
From  her  evidence,  it  appeared  that  Clark  was  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance  of  Aram's  before  the  8th  of  Febru- 
ary, 1744-5,  and  they  had  had  frequent  transactions 
together,  and  with  Houseman  also.  About  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  8th  of  February,  1744-5,  Aram, 
Clark,  and  Houseman  came  to  Aram's  house  and  went 
up  stairs,  where  they  remained  about  an  hour.  They 
then  went  out  together,  and  Clark  being  the  last,  she 
observed  that  he  had  a  sack  or  wallet  on  his  back. 
About  four,*Aram  and  Houseman  returned,  but  with- 
out their  companion.  "  Where  is  Clark  ?"  she  inquir- 
ed ;  but  her  husband  only  returned  an  angry  look  in 
reply,  and  desired  her  to  go  to  bed,  which  she  refused, 
and  told  him,  "  she  feared  he  had  been  doing  something 
wrong."  Aram  then  went  down  stairs  with  the  candle, 
mid  she  being  desirous  to  know  what  thev  were  doing, 


EUGENE    ARAM.  253 

followed  them,  and  from  the  top  of  the  stairs  heard 
Houseman  say,  "She's  coming;  if  she  does,  she'll 
tell."  "  What  can  she  tell,  poor  simple  thing?"  replied 
Aram ;  "  she  knows  nothing.  I  '11  hold  the  door  to  pre- 
vent her  coming."  "  It 's  of  no  use,  something  must 
be  done,"  returned  Houseman;  "if  she  don't  split' 
now,  she  will  some  other  time."  "  No,  no,  foolish,"* 
her  husband  said;  "we'll  coax  her  a  little  till  her 
passion  is  off,  and  then" — "What!"  said  Houseman 
sullenly. — "  Shoot  her,"  whispered  Aram,  "  shoot  her  !" 
Mrs.  Aram,  hearing  this  discourse,  became  very  much 
alarmed,  but  remained  quiet.  At  seven  o'clock  the 
same  morning  they  both  left  the  house,  and  she,  imme- 
diately their  backs  were  turned,  went  down  stairs,  and 
observed  that  there  had  been  a  fire  below,  and  all  the 
ashes  taken  out  of  the  grate.  She  then  examined  the 
dunghill,  and  perceived  ashes  of  a  different  kind  lying 
upon  it,  and  searching  amongst  them,  found  several 
pieces  of  linen  and  woollen  cloth  very  nearly  burnt, 
which  had  the  appearance  of  wearing  apparel.  When 
she  returned  into  the  house,  she  found  a  handkerchief 
that  she  had  lent  to  Houseman  the  night  before,  and  a 
round  spot  of  blood  upon  it  about  the  size  of  a  shilling. 
Houseman  came  back  soon  afterwards,  and  she  charged 
him  with  having  done  some  dreadful  thing  to  Clark ; 
but  he  pretended  total  ignorance,  and  added,  "  she  was 
a  fool,  and  knew  not  what  she  said."  From  these  cir- 
cumstances, she  fully  and  conscientiously  believed  that 
Daniel  Clark  was  murdered  by  Houseman  and  Eugene 
Aram,  on  the  8th  of  February,  1744-5.     - 

Several  other  witnesses  were  examined,  all  affirming 
that  Houseman  and  Eugene  Aram  were  the  last  per- 
sons seen  with  Clark,  especially  on  the  night  of  the  ?<h 
of  February,  being  that  after  which  he  was  missing. 
Upon  hearing  these  testimonies,  Houseman,  who  was 
present,  was  observed  to  become  very  restless,  discover- 
ing all  the  signs  of  guilt,  such  as  trembling,  turning 
pale,  and  faltering  in  his  speech.  Few  men  guilty  of 
the  crime  of  murder  have  the  strength  of  heart  and 
self-command  to  conceal  it :  by  some  circumstance  or 
V 


254  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

other,  the  truth  will  out ;  a  look,  a  dream,  and  not  un- 
frequently,  as  in  this  case,  their  own  unfaithful  tongue, 
is  the  involuntary  agent  that  brings  at  last  the  black- 
ened culprit  to  that  punishment  which  unerringly 
awaits  the  man  that  sheds  his  brother's  blood.  Ac- 
cordingly, upon  the  skeleton  being  produced,  House- 
man, taking  up  one  of  the  bones,  dropped  this  most 
unguarded  expression :  "  This  is  no  more  Daniel 
Clark's  bone  than  it  is  mine."  "What?"  remarked 
the  coroner  instantlv — "what? — how  is  this?  How 
can  you  be  so  sure  that  that  is  not  Daniel  Clark's 
bone?"  "Because  I  can  pi oduce  a  witness,"  replied 
Houseman,  in  evident  confusion — "  because  I  can  pro- 
duce a  witness,  who  saw  Daniel  Clark  upon  the  road 
two  days  after  he  was  missing  at  Knaresborough." 
This  witness  was  instantly  summoned,  and  stated  that 
he  had  never  seen  Clark  after  the  8th  of  February;  a 
friend,  however,  had  told  him  (and  this  only  had  he 
mentioned  at  first)  that  he  met  some  one  very  like 
Clark;  but,  it  being  a  snowy  day,  and  the  person  hav- 
ing the  cape  of  his  great  coat  up,  he  could  not  say  with 
the  least  degree  of  certainty  who  he  was.  This  expla- 
nation, so  far  from  proving  satisfactory,  increased  the 
suspicion  against  Houseman  ;  and  accordingly  a  war- 
rant was  issued  against  him,  and  he  was  apprehended 
and  brought  before  William  Thornton,  Esq.,  who,  exa- 
mining him,  elicited  a  full  acknowledgment  of  the  fact 
of  his  having  been  with  Clark  on  the  night  in  question, 
on  account  of  some  money  (twenty  pounds)  that  he 
had  lent  him,  and  which  he  wanted  at  the  time  very 
pressingly.  He  further  stated,  that  Clark  begged  him 
to  accept  the  value  in  goods,  to  which  proposition  he 
assented,  and  was  necessarily,  therefore,  several  times 
to  and  fro  between  Clark's  house  and  his  own,  in  order 
to  remove  the  goods  from  one  to  the  other.  When  he 
had  finished,  he  left  Clark  at  Aram's  house,  with  an- 
other man,  whom  he  had  never  seen  before.  Aram 
and  Clark,  immediately  afterwards,  followed  him  out 
of  the  house  of  the  former,  and  the  stranger  was  with 
ihem.     They  then  went  in  the  direction  of  the  market- 


EUGENE    ARAM.  255 

place,  which  the  light  of  the  moon  enabled  him  to  see, 
and  he  lost  sight  of  them.  He  disavowed  most  solemn- 
ly that  he  came  back  to  Aram's  house  that  morning 
with  Aram  and  Clark,  as  was  asserted  by  Mrs.  Aram ; 
nor  was  he  with  Aram,  but  with  Clark,  at  the  house  of 
the  former  on  that  night,  whither  he  only  went  to  see 
Clark  in  order  to  obtain  from  him  the  note. 

Being  then  asked  if  he  would  sign  this  examination, 
he  said  he  would  rather  waive  it  for  the  present,  for  he 
might  have  something  to  add,  and  therefore  desired  to 
have  time  to  consider  of  it.  The  magistrate  then  com- 
mitted him  to  York  castle,  when,  expressing  a  wish  to 
explain  more  fully,  he  was  again  brought  before  Mr. 
Thornton,  and  in  his  presence  made  the  following  con- 
fession : — That  Daniel  Clark  was  murdered  by  Eugene 
Aram,  late  of  Knaresborough,  a  schoolmaster,  and,  as 
he  believed,  on  Friday  the  8th  of  February,  1744-5 ; 
for  that  Eugene  Aram  and  Daniel  Clark  were  together 
at  Aram's  house  early  that  morning,  and  that  he 
(Houseman)  left  the  house  and  went  up  the  street  a 
little  before,  and  they  called  to  him,  desiring  he  would 
go  a  short  way  with  them;  and  he  accordingly  went 
with  them  to  a  place  called  St.  Robert's  cave,  near 
Grimble  bridge,  where  the  two  former  stopped,  and 
there  he  saw  Aram  strike  Clark  several  times  over  the 
breast  and  head,  and  saw  him  fall  as  if  he  were  dead ; 
upon  which  he  came  away  and  left  them;  but  whether 
Aram  used  any  weapon  or  not  to  kill  Clark,  he  could 
not  tell,  nor  did  he  know  what  he  did  with  the  body 
afterwards,  but  believed  that  Aram  left  it  at  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  ;  for  that,  seeing  Aram  do  this,  lest  he 
might  share  the  same  fate,  he  made  the  best  of  his  way 
to  the  bridge-end,  where,  looking  back,  he  saw  Aram 
coming  from  the  cave-side,  (which  is  in  a  private  rock 
adjoining  the  river,)  and  could  discern  a  bundle  in  his 
hand,  but  did  not  know  what  it  was :  upon  this  he 
hastened  away  to  the  town,  without  either  joining  Aram 
or  seeing  him  again  till  the  next  day,  and  from  that 
time  he  had  never  had  discourse  with  him.  He  stated, 
however,  afterwards,  that  Clark's  body  was  buried  in 


256  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

St.  Robert's  cave,  and  that  he  was  sure  it  was  there, 
but  desired  it  might  remain  till  such  time  as  Aram  was 
taken.  He  added  further,  that  Clark's  head  lay  to  the 
right,  in  the  turn  at  the  entrance  of  the  cave. 

Proper  persons  were  instantly  appointed  to  examine 
St.  Robert's  cave,  when,  agreeably  to  Houseman's 
confession,  the  skeleton  of  a  human  body  (the  head 
lying  as  he  had  described)  was  found.  A  warrant  was 
instantly  issued  to  apprehend  Eugene  Aram,  who  was 
discovered  to  be  living  at  Lynn  in  the  capacity  of  usher 
at  a  school.  He  confessed  before  the  magistrate  that 
he  was  well  acquainted  with  Clark,  and,  to  the  best  of 
his  remembrance,  about  or  before  the  8th  of  February, 
1744-5,  but  utterly  denied  any  participation  in  the 
frauds  which  Clark  stood  charged  with  at  the  time  of 
his  disappearance.  He  also  declared  that  he  knew  no- 
thing of  the  murder,  and  that  the  statements  made  by 
his  wife  were  without  exception  false :  he,  however, 
declined  to  sign  his  examination,  on  the  same  plea  pre- 
ferred by  Houseman,  that  he  might  recollect  himself 
better,  and  lest  any  thing  should  be  omitted  which 
might  afterwards  occur  to  him.  On  being  conducted 
to  the  castle,  he  desired  to  return,  and  acknowledged 
that  he  was  at  his  own  house  when  Houseman  and 
Clark  came  to  him  with  some  plate,  of  which  Clark 
had  defrauded  his  neighbors.  He  could  not  but  ob- 
serve that  the  former  was  very  diligent  in  assisting;  in 
fact,  it  was  altogether  Houseman's  business ;  and  there 
was  no  truth  whatever  in  the  statement  that  he  came 
there  to  sign  a  note  or  instrument.  All  the  leather 
which  Clark  had  possessed  himself  of,  amounting  to  a 
considerable  value,  was  concealed  under  flax  at  House- 
man's house,  with  the  intention  of  disposing  of  it  little 
by  little,  to  prevent  any  suspicion  of  his  being  concern- 
ed in  the  robbery.  The  plate  was  beaten  flat  in  St. 
Robert's  cave.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  they, 
thinking  that  it  was  too  late  to  enable  Clark  to  leave 
with  safety,  agreed  that  he  should  stay  there  till  the 
next  night,  and  he  accordingly  remained  there  all  the 
following  day.     In  order,  then,  the  better  to  effect  his 


EUGENE    AKAM.  257 

escape,  they  both  went  down  to  the  cave,  Houseman 
only  entering,  while  he  watched  without,  lest  any  per- 
son should  surprise  them.  On  a  sudden  he  heard  a 
noise,  and  Houseman  appeared  at  the  mouth  of  the 
cave,  and  told  him  that  Clark  was  gone.  He  had  a 
bag  with  him,  containing  plate,  which  he  said  he  lAid 
purchased  of  Clark,  money  being  much  more  portable 
than  such  cumbersome  articles.  They  then  went  to 
Houseman's  house,  and  concealed  the  property  there, 
he  fully  believing  that  Clark  had  escaped.  He  never 
heard  any  thing  of  Clark  subsequently,  and  was  as 
much  surprised  to  hear  there  was  a  suspicion  of  his 
being  murdered,  as  that  he  (Eugene  Aram)  should  be 
considered  to  be  the  murderer.  Notwithstanding  this 
surprise,  however,  his  examination  having  been  signed, 
he  was  committed  with  his  companion  to  York  castle, 
there  to  await  the  assizes. 

On  the  third  of  August.  1759,  they  were  both  brought 
to  the  bar.  Houseman  was  arraigned  on  the  former 
indictment,  acquitted,  and  admitted  evidence  against 
Aram,  who  was  thereupon -arraigned.  Houseman  was 
then  called,  and  deposed  to  the  same  effect  as  that 
which  has  already  appeared  in  his  own  confession. 
Several  witnesses  were  called,  who  gave  evidence  as 
to  finding  several  kinds  of  goods  buried  in  Aram's  gar- 
den, Aram's  knowledge  of  the  fact  of  Clark's  possessing 
two  hundred  pounds,  and  to  show  that  they  both  had 
been  seen  together  on  the  evening  of  the  7th  of  Febru- 
ary. After  which  the  skull  was  produced  in  court ;  on 
the  left  side  there  was  a  fracture,  from  the  nature  of 
which  it  was  impossible  to  have  been  done  but  by  the 
stroke  of  some  blunt  instrument.  The  skull  was  beaten 
inwards,  and  could  not  be  replaced  but  from  within. 
The  surgeon  gave  it  as  his  opinion,  that  no  such  breach 
could  proceed  from  natural  decay;  that  it  was  not  a 
recent  fracture  made  by  the  spade  or  axe  by  which  it 
might  have  been  dug  up;  but  seemed  to  be  of  some 
years'  standing. 

Eugene  Aram's  defence,  which  he  read,  was  marked 
with  an  undoubted  manifestation  of  very  considerable 


258  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

powers.  It  was  learned  and  argumentative;  and  in 
some  passages,  glowing  and  eloquent.  He  attempted 
to  si iow,  that  no  rational  inference  can  be  drawn  that 
a  person  is  dead  who  suddenly  disappears; — that  her- 
mitages such  as  St.  Robert's  cave  were  the  constant 
repositories  of  the  bones  of  the  recluse;  that  the  proofs 
of  this  were  well  authenticated;  and,  that  therefore  the 
conclusion  that  the  bones  found  were  those  of  some 
one  killed  in  battle,  or  of  some  ascetic,  remained  no 
less  reasonably  than  impatiently  expected  by  him.  A 
verdict  of  guilty  was  however  returned,  and  he  was 
condemned  to  be  hanged  accordingly. 

On  the  morning  after  his  condemnation,  he  confessed 
the  justice  of  his  sentence  to  the  two  gentlemen  who 
attended  him.  and  acknowledged  that  he  had  murdered 
Clark.  He  told  them,  also,  that  he  suspected  Clark  of 
having  an  unlawful  commerce  with  his  wife;  and  that 
at  the  time  of  the  murder  he  felt  persuaded  he  was  act- 
ing right,  but  since,  he  had  thought  otherwise.^ 

It  was  generally  believed,  as  he  promised  to  make  a 
more  ample  confession  on  the  day  he  was  executed  of 
every  thing  prior  to  the  murder,  that  the  whole  would 
have  been  disclosed;  but  he  put  an  end  to  any  farther 
discovery,  by  an  attempt  upon  his  own  life.  When  he 
was  called  from  his  bed  to  have  his  chains  taken  off, 
he  refused,  alleging  that  he  was  very  weak.  On  mov- 
ing him.  it  was  found  that  he  had  inflicted  a  severe 
wound  upon  his  arm,  from  which  the  blood  was  flow- 
ing copiously.  He  had  concealed  a  razor  in  the  con- 
demned hold  some  time  before.  By  proper  and  prompt 
applications  he  was  brought  to  himself,  and  though 
weak  from  loss  of  blood,  conducted  to  Tyburn  in  York, 
where,  being  asked  if  he  had  any  thing  to  say,  he  an- 
swered, "  No."  He  was  then  executed,  and  his  body 
conveyed  to  Knaresborough  Forest,  and  hung  in  chains, 
pursuant  to  his  sentence. 

*  It  is  generally  believed,  and  upon  good  grounds,  we  imagine,  that 
Aram  possessed  himself  of  all  the  money  Clark  had  received  for  his 
wife's  dower,  (about  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds,)  and  there  were 
strong  circumstances  to  substantiate  it ;  but  it  was  thought  unnecessa- 
ry, sufficient  pro»f  having  been  adduced  without  it. 


EUGENE    ARAM.  259 

That  Eugene  Aram  murdered  Clark  is  beyond  all 
question,  since  we  have  his  confession;  t.'iat  he  com- 
mitted the  murder  actuated  by  the  cause  he  alleges,  is 
open  to  great  suspicion.  The  strange  solicitude  which 
all  men,  even  the  most  vicious,  manifest  to  leave  behind 
a  memory  mingled  with  some  little  good,  prompted  him, 
doubtless,  tc  give  his  crime  the  ennobling,  or,  at  least, 
mitigatory  motive  to  which  he  attributes  it.  Whether 
the  perpetration  of  a  murder  can  be  justified,  even 
urged  by  the  wrong  Aram  states  himself  to  have  sus- 
pected, may  be  left  to  the  consideration  of  the  casuist ; 
but  whether  the  dreadful  act  can  be  extenuated  by  as 
deliberate  and  foul  attack  on  the  virtue  and  character 
of  an  innocent  and  industrious  woman,  whom  he  upon 
all  occasions  treated  with  infamous  barbarity,  is  a 
question  we  can  confidently  leave  to  the  judgment  and 
moral  sense  of  every  man.  That  Eugene  Aram  was 
leagued  with  Clark  and  Houseman  in  their  fraud  at 
Knaresborough,  there  can  be  little  doubt ;  that  he  plun- 
dered his  unhappy  victim  after  he  had  murdered  him, 
there  can  be  less ;  that  no  sense  of  domestic  injury 
would  urge  a  man  to  rob  another  who  had  wronged 
him  after  he  had  slain  him,  needs  only  to  be  mentioned 
to  be  admitted ;  and  therefore,  believing  conscientiously 
from  these  facts  that  the  charge  against  his  wife  was 
not  maintainable,  a  double  indignation  is  entailed  upon 
the  wretch  who  could  add  to  the  measure  of  his  crime 
this  gratuitous  calumny. 

Notwithstanding  these  facts  and  the  inferences  that 
every  attentive  reader  must  inevitably  draw  from 
them,  Eugene  Aram  has  been  deemed  a  fit  hero  for  a 
popular  novel ;  and  the  execration  with  whi  ;h  he 
should  have  been  consigned  to  posterity  has  been  at- 
tempted to  be  converted  into  a  sentimental  commisera- 
tion for  a  gentle  student  who  beats  out  his  friend's 
brains  on  philosophical  principles,  and  converts  his 
property  to  his  own  use  purely  with  a  view  to  the 
interests  of  science  and  the  intellectual  progression  of 
the  world  at  large. 

11 


260 


GEORGE  BARRINGTON. 

George  Barrington,  whose  crimes  have  justly  asto- 
nished his  contemporaries,  was  originally  a  native  and 
inhabitant  of  Ireland ;  and,  as  it  will  appear  in  the  se- 
quel that  the  name  of  Barrington  was  assumed,  let  it 
suffice  to  remark  that  his  father's  name  was  Henry 
Waldron,  and  that  he  was  a  working  silversmith ; 
while  his  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Naish,  was 
a  mantuamaker,  and  occasionally  a  midwife. 

Our  adventurer  was  born  about  the  year  1755,  at  the 
village  of  Maynooth,  in  the  county  of  Kildare.  His 
parents,  who  bore  a  good  character  for  their  industry, 
integrity,  and  general  good  behavior,  were,  however, 
never  able  to  rise  to  a  state  of  independence,  or  security 
from  indigence,  owing  to  their  engagement  in  a  law- 
suit with  a  more  powerful  and  opulent  relative,  in 
order  to  the  recovery  of  a  legacy,  to  which  they  con- 
ceived they  had  a  legal  right.  To  the  narrowness  of 
their  circumstances  the  neglect  of  their  son's  education 
is  imputed ;  and,  therefore,  they  were  incapable  of 
improving,  or  of  giving  a  proper  bias  to  those  early 
indications  of  natural  abilities,  and  a  superiority  of  ta- 
lents, which  must  inevitably  have  unfolded  themselves 
even  in  the  dawn  of  young  Barrington's  existence. 
He  was,  notwithstanding  these  obstacles,  instructed  in 
reading  and  writing  at  an  early  age.  dt  their  expense; 
and  afterwards,  through  the  bounty  of  a  medical  gen- 
tleman in  the  neighborhood /  he  was  initiated  in  the 
principles  of  common  ari tlimetic,  the  elements  of  geo- 
graphy, and  the  outlines  of  English  grammar. 

This  ill-fated  youth,  however,  enjoyed  but  for  a  short 
time  the  benefits  he  derived  from  the  kindness'  of  his 
first  patron,  a  dignitary  of  the  church  in  Ireland ;  for 


GEORGE    BARRINGTON.  261 

the  violence  of  his  passions,  which  equalled  at  least  the 
extent  of  his  talents,  precipitated  him  into  an  action  by 
which  he  lost  his  favor  forover,  and  which,  in  its 
consequences,  finally  proved  his  ruin.  When  he  had 
been  about  half  a  year  at  the  grammar-school  in  Dub- 
lin, to  which  he  had  been  sent  by  his  patron,  he  un- 
luckily got  into  a  dispute  with  a  lad,  much  older, 
larger,  and  stronger  than  himself;  the  dispute  degene- 
rated into  a  quarrel,  and  some  blows  ensued,  in  which 
young  Waldron  suffered  considerably ;  but  in  order  to 
be  revenged,  he  stabbed  his  antagonist  with  a  penknife; 
and  had  he  not  been  seasonably  prevented*  would  have 
in  all  probability  murdered  him.  The  wounds  which 
he  gave  did  not  prove  so  dangerous  as  to  render  the 
several  circumstances  of  the  quarrel  which  occasioned 
them  a  subject  of  legal  investigation.  The  discipline 
of  the  house,  (flogging.)  however,  wr.s  inflicted  with 
proper  severity  on  the  perpetrator  of  so  atrocious  an 
offence,  which  irritated  the  unrelenting  and  vindictive 
temper  of  the  young  man  to  such  a  degree  that  he  de- 
termined at  once  to  run  away  from  school,  from  his 
family,  and  from  his  friends ;  thus  abandoning  the  fair 
prospects  that  he  had  before  him,  and  blasting  all  the 
hopes  that  had  been  fondly,  though  vainly,  formed  of 
the  great  things  that  might  be  effected  by  his  genius 
when  matured  by  time  and  improved  by  study. 

His  plan  of  escape  was  no  sooner  formed  than  it  was 
carried  into  execution;  but  previously  to  his  departure 
he  found  means  to  steal  ten  or  twelve  guineas  from  the 
master  of  the  school,  and  a  gold  repeating  watch  from 
Mrs.  Goldsborough,  the  master's  sister.  With  this 
booty,  a  few  shirts,  and  two  or  three  pair  of  stockings, 
he  silently  but  safely  effected  his  retreat  from  the 
school-house,  in  the  middle  of  a  still  night  in  the  month 
of  May,  1771 ;  and  pursuing  the  gre^t  northern  road 
all  that  night,  and  all  the  next  day,  he  late  in  the 
evening  arrived  at  the  town  of  Drogheda,  without  in- 
terruption, without  accident,  and  in  a  great  measure 
without  halting,  without  rest,  and  without  food. 

The  first  place  of  safety  at   which  young  Waldron 


262  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

thought  proper  to  halt,  was  at  an  obscure  inn  in  Drog- 
heda,  where  a  company  of  strolling  players  happening 
to  be  at  the  time,  it  was  the  occasion  of  a  new  series 
of  acquaintance,  which,  though  formed  on  precipitation 
and  on  the  spur  of  the  occasion,  was  retained  from 
choice  and  affection  for  a  number  of  years. 

One  John  Price,  the  manager  of  the  strolling  compa- 
ny, became  quickly  the  confidant,  and  from  the  confi- 
dant the  sole  counsellor  of  the  young  fugitive  Waldron, 
who,  influenced  by  the  ardor,  the  natural  and  unguard- 
ed ingenuousness  of  a  youthful  mind,  communicated  to 
this  new  friend,  without  reserve,  all  the  circumstances 
of  his  life  and  story.  By  his  advice  this  unhappy 
youth  renounced  his  paternal  name,  assumed  that  of 
Barrington,  entered  into  the  company,  and  in  the 
course  of  four  days  became  so  absolutely  and  formally 
a  strolling  son  of  Thespis,  that  he  performed  the  part 
of  Jaffier  in  "Venice  Preserved,"  with  some  applause, 
to  a  crowded  audience,  in  a  barn  in  the  suburbs  of 
Drogheda ;  and  this  without  the  assistance  of  a 
prompter. 

Though  the  reception  he  met  with  on  his  debut  was 
very  flattering  to  a  mind  like  his,  Price,  as  well  as 
himself,  thought  it  would  not  be  proper  for  him  to  ap- 
pear in  public  so  near  the  scene  of  his  late  depredations 
in  the  capital.  It  was,  therefore,  resolved  on  by  them 
that  the  whole  company  should  without  delay  move  to 
the  northward,  and,  if  possible,  get  to  the  distance  of 
sixty  or  eighty  miles  from  Dublin  before  they  halted 
for  any  length  of  time.  In  order  to  enable  so  numerous 
a  body  to  move  with  all  their  baggage,  it  was  necessary 
to  raise  money;  and  in  doing  this,  Barrington's  assist- 
ance being  the  first  thing  that  offered,  was  indispensa- 
bly necessary.  He  was  accordingly  applied  to,  and 
acquiesced  with  a  good  grace,  giving  Price  Mrs.  Golds- 
borough's  gold  repeater,  which  was  disposed  of  for  the 
general  benefit  of  the  strollers. 

As  soon  as  the  necessary  funds  were  procured,  all 
these  children  of  Thespis  set  out  for  Londonderry, 
which  was  the  place  at  which  they  first  designed   to 


GEORGE    BARRINGTON.  263 

play.  Travelling  but  slowly,  they  were  a  considerable 
time  on  their  journey ;  and  during  the  course  oi'  it,  the 
penetrating  eyes.of  the  experienced  actresses  discovered 
that  Barrington  had  made  a  tender  impression  on  the 
heart  of  Miss  Egerton,  the  young  lady  who  played  the 
part  of  Belvidera  when  he  acted  that  of  Jaffier  at 
Drogheda.  This  poor  girl  was  the  daughter  of  an 
opulent  tradesman  at  Coventry.  She  was  young  and 
beautiful,  sweet-tempered  and  accomplished,  but  now 
friendless ;  and  though,  like  the  rest,  inured  to  misfor- 
tune, she  was  destitute  of  the  experience  which  is 
generally  acquired  during  a  series  of  sinister  and  unto- 
ward events.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  she  was  seduced 
by  a  lieutenant  of  marines,  with  whom  she  fled  from 
her  father's  house  to  Dublin,  where  in  less  than  three 
months  he  abandoned  her,  leaving  her  a  prey  to  pover- 
ty, infamy,  and  desperation. 

Having  been  thus  deceived  in  the  simplicity  of  inno- 
cence by  the  cunning  and  falsehood  of  one  of  the  vilest 
and  most  profligate  of  human  beings,  she  had  no  other 
resource  from  the  most  extreme  want  than  r losing  with 
Price,  who  proposed  to  her  to  join  his  company  ;  which, 
situated  as  she  was,  she  readily  agreed  to  do,  and  had 
been  with  him  but  a  very  short  time  when  she  saw 
Barrington,  of  whom,  being  of  a  warm  constitution, 
she  became  rather  suddenly  enamored.  But  to  the 
credit  of  our  adventurer,  although  his  affection  was  as 
ardent  as  her  own,  it  was  not  of  that  brutal  and  profli- 
gate cast  that  so  frequently  disgraces  the  devious  paths 
of  youthful  imprudence  and  indiscretion.  On  the  part 
of  Miss  Egerton,  the  symptoms  of  her  affection  for  him 
were  so  obvious,  that,  inexperienced  as  he  then  was  in 
matters  of  gallantry  and  intrigue,  he  not  only  perceived 
her  passion  but  was  sensible  of  her  merit,  and  returned 
her  love  with  perfect  sincerity. 

It  was  not  long  before  Price,  urged  a  second  time  by 
want  of  money,  found  it  expedient  to  insinuate  to  the 
unfortunate  Barrington,  that  a  young  man  of  his  ad- 
dress and  appearance  might  very  easily  find  means  to 
introduce  himself  into  some  of  the  public  places  to 


264  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

which  the  merchants  and  chapmen  of  that  commercial 
city  generally  resorted ;  and  that  he  there  might,  with- 
out any  great  difficulty,  find  opportunities  of  picking 
their  pockets  unnoticed,  and  of  escaping  undetected, 
more  especially  at  that  particular  time,  when,  the  fair 
being  held,  a  favorable  juncture  afforded  itself  of  exe- 
cuting a  plan  of  such  a  nature  with  safety  and  facility. 
The  idea  pleased  our  needy  adventurer,  and  the  plan 
formed  on  it  was  carried  into  execution  by  him  and  his 
trusty  confidant  John  Price,  the  very  next  day,  with 
great  success ;  at  least  such  it  appeared  to  them  at  that 
time,  their  acquisitions  having  amounted,  on  the  close 
of  the  evening,  to  about  forty  guineas  in  cash,  and 
above  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  Irish  currency,  in 
bank-notes;  which,  however,  they  artfully  determined 
not,  on  any  account,  to  circulate  in  the  part  of  the 
kingdom  in  which  they  were  obtained.  This  precau- 
tion became  peculiarly  necessary ;  for  several  gentle- 
men having  been  robbed,  the  town  took  the  alarm, 
which  was  the  greater,  or  at  least  made  the  more  noise, 
from  the  rarity  of  such  events  in  that  part  of  the  king- 
dom, where  the  picking  of  pockets  is  said  to  be  very 
little  practised  or  known.  But  whatever  the  alarm 
was,  or  whatever  noise  it  made,  neither  Barrington  nor 
his  accomplice  was  suspected.  They  however  resolved 
to  leave  Deny  as  soon  as  they  could  with  any  appear- 
ance of  propriety  depart  from  thence :  so  that,  having 
played  a  few  nights  as  usual,  with  more  applause  than 
profit,  they  and  their  associates  of  the  sock  and  buskin 
removed  from  Londonderry  to  Ballyshannon,  in  the 
county  of  Donegal,  and  never  more  returned  into  that 
part  of  the  kingdom,  where  George  Barrington  may  be 
considered  as  having  commenced  the  business  of  a  re- 
gular and  professed  pickpocket,  in  the  summer  of  the 
year  1771,  being  at  that  time  little  more  than  sixteen 
years  of  age.  and  having  just  laid  by  the  profession  of 
a  strolling  player. 

This  wretched  company  having  now  become  thieves 
as  well  as  vagrants  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  and  compelled 
to   subsist   upon   the   plunder  above  mentioned,   after 


GEORGE    BARRING  TON. 

travelling  about  a  fortnight,  arrived  at  Ballyshannon. 
Here  Barrington,  with  the  company  to  which  he  be- 
longed, spent  the  autumn  and  the  winter  of  the  year 
1771,  playing  generally  on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays, 
and  picking  pockets  with  John  Price  every  day  in  the 
week,  whenever  opportunity  offered ;  a  business  which, 
though  attended  with  danger  and  certain  infamy,  he 
found  more  lucrative  and  more  entertaining  than  that 
of  the  theatre,  where  his  fame  and  his  proficiency  were 
by  no  means  equal  to  the  expectations  he  had  raised, 
or  to  the  hopes  that  had  been  formed  of  him  on  his  first 
appearance  at  Drogheda. 

From  Ballyshannon,  at  length,  having  left  the  com- 
pany of  his  friend  Price,  he  moved  to  the  southward, 
with  his  faithful  Miss  Egerton,  whom  he  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  lose  forever  in  crossing  the  river  Boyne,  in 
which  she  was  drowned,  through  the  ignorance,  or  the 
more  culpable  negligence,  of  a  ferryman. 

Barrington,  however,  virtuous  in  his  attachment  to 
Miss  Egerton,  was  for  some  time  inconsolable  for  the 
loss  which  he  had  just  sustained ;  but  being  neither  of 
an  age  nor  of  a  temper  propitious  to  the  continuance  of 
sorrowful  sensations,  he  hastened  to  Limerick,  where 
he  hoped  to  meet  Price,  his  old  accomplice.  On  his 
arrival  in  that  city,  he  learned  that  the  person  after 
whom  he  had  inquired  had  set  out  for  Cork  ten  days 
before,  and  thither  our  adventurer  followed  him,  and 
found  him  within  an  hour  after  he  entered  the  town 
gates.  On  their  meeting,  it  was  agreed  on  by  them 
never  more  to  think  of  the  stage ;  a  resolution  which 
was  the  more  easily  executed,  as  the  company  to  which 
they  originally  belonged  was  now  broken  up  and  dis- 
persed. It  was  besides  settled  between  them  that  Price 
should  pass  for  Barrington's  servant,  and  that  Barring- 
ton should  act  the  part  of  a  young  gentleman  of  large 
fortune  and  of  a  noble  family,  who  was  not  yet  quite 
of  age,  but,  until  he  should  attain  that  period,  travelled 
for  his  amusement.  In  pursuance  of  this  hopeful 
scheme,  horses  were  purchased,  and  the  master  and 
man,  now  united  as  knight-errant  and  esquire,  and 
W 


266  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

well  equipped  for  every  purpose  of  depredation,  accord- 
ingly took  their  determination  to  act  their  several  parts 
in  the  wild  field  of  adventure;  and  thus,  m  the  summer 
of  1772,  as  the  race  grounds  in  the  south  of  Ireland  pre- 
sented themselves  as  the  fairest  objects,  they  hastened 
to  these  scenes  of  spoliation,  and  were  successful  even 
beyond  their  expectation. 

Picking  pockets  being  rather  new  amongst  the  gentry 
of  Ireland,  their  want  of  precaution  rendered  them  a 
more  easy  prey  to  Mr.  Barrington  and  his  accomplice, 
who  found  means  to  retire  to  Cork  on  the  setting  in  of 
winter,  with  a  booty  of  nearly  one  thousand  pounds. 
In  this  city  they  found  it  convenient  to  fix  their  resi- 
dence, at  least  till  the  next  spring.  And  now  it  was 
that  Barrington  first  determined  within  himself  to  be- 
come what  has  been  called  a  gentleman  pickpocket, 
and  to  affect  both  the  airs  and  importance  of  a  man  of 
fashion. 

In  this  desperate  career  of  vice  and  folly,  it  was  the 
fate  of  Price,  the  preceptor  of  Barrington,  to  be  first  de- 
tected in  the  act  of  picking  the  pocket  of  a  gentleman 
of  high  rank,  for  which  he  was  tried,  convicted,  and  in 
a  very  short  period  sentenced  to  transportation,  for  the 
term  of  seven  years,  to  America. 

Barrington,  naturally  alarmed  at  the  fate  of  his  ini- 
quitous preceptor,  without  loss  of  time  converted  all  his 
movable  property  into  cash,  and  taking  horse,  made  as 
precipitate  a  journey  to  Dublin  as  he  possibly  could. 

On  his  arrival  there,  he  lived  rather  in  a  private  and 
retired  manner,  only  lurking  in  the  darkest  evenings 
about  the  playhouses,  where  he  occasionally  picked  up 
a  few  guineas  or  a  watch.  But  he  was  soon  weary  of 
the  sameness,  and  disgusted  with  the  obscurity  of  a 
life  of  comparative  retirement,  such  as  that  he  led  in 
the  Irish  capital ;  so  that  when  the  spring  and  the  fine 
weather  that  accompanied  it  returned,  he  embarked  on 
board  the  Dorset  yacht,  which  was  then  on  the  point 
of  sailing  with  the  duke  of  Leinster  for  Parkgate ;  and 
before  the  expiration  of  a  week,  he  found  himself  tor 
the  first  time  of  his  life  on  English  ground. 


GEORGE    BARRINGTON.  267 

With  Sir  Alexander  Schomberg,  who  commanded 
the  Dorset  yacht,  there  were  three  other  persons  em- 
barked, and  of  some  distinction,  from  whence  it  ap- 
peared that  the  connection  which  onr  adventurer  form- 
ed with  them  had  considerable  effect  afterwards  in  the 
course  of  the  long  succession  of  transactions  in  which 
he  was  engaged.  A  young  captain  was  one  of  the 
three  who  was  most  conspicuous,  and,  as  it  will  ap- 
pear, a  striking,  though  an  innocent  cause  of  Barring- 
ton's  success  in  his  projects  of  depredation. 

It  did  not  require  so  much  sagacity  and  penetration 
as  Barrington  at  the  time  certainly  possessed,  to  pene- 
trate into  the  character  of  this  young  gentleman,  and  to 
predict  the  good  consequences  that  might  follow  an  in- 
timacy with  a  young  man  of  his  rank,  disposition,  and 
family.  Actuated  by  a  sordid  sense  of  the  utility  of 
such  a  connection  to  one  in  his  circumstances,  the 
adventurer  employed  all  those  base  arts  of  flattery  and 
insinuation  of  which  he  had  been  long  a  perfect  master, 
to  ingratiate  himself  with  this  gentleman ;  and  in  this 
design  he  succeeded  to  the  utmost  extent  of  his  wishes. 
Barrington  formed  an  artful  tale,  which  he  told  as  his 
own  story,  the  purport  of  which  was,  that  his  father 
was  a  man  of  a  noble  family  in  Ireland,  and  illustrious 
in  England,  to  which  country  he  himself  now  came  to 
study  law  in  one  of  the  inns  of  court,  more,  however, 
to  avoid  the  ill-natured  severity  of  a  harsh,  unrelenting 
step-mother,  which  rendered  his  paternal  mansion  in  a 
great  measure  intolerable  to  him,  than  from  any  predi- 
lection for  the  profession  to  which  he  intended  to  apply 
himself,  but  the  exercise  of  which  the  ample  fortune 
that  he  was  heir  to  would  render  unnecessary. 

The  story  took  as  well  as  could  be  desired  by  the 
inventor  of  it,  and  it  was  settled  between  him  and  his 
new  friend  that  he  should,  on  his  arrival  in  town,  enter 

himself  of  the  Middle  Temple,  where  Mr.  H n  had 

some  relations  and  a  numerous  acquaintance,  to  whom, 
he  said,  he  should  be  happy  to  introduce  a  gentleman 
so  eminently  distinguished  by  his  talents  and  his  ac- 


268  LHTES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  and  robbers. 

complishments,  as  well  as  *by  his  fortune  and  birth,  as 
Mr.  Barrington  was. 

It  was  also  farther  agreed  on  between  them,  that 
they  should  travel  together  to  London ;  and  they  ac- 
cordingly the  next  day  took  a  post-chaise  at  Parkgate, 
and  continuing  their  journey  by  easy  stages  through 
Chester,  Nantwich,  and  Coventry,  where  they  stopped 
two  or  three  days,  arrived  by  the  end  of  the  week  at 
the  Bath  coffee-house  in  Piccadilly,  which,  on  the  re- 
commendation of  the  captain,  who  had  been  several 
times  before  in  the  metropolis,  was  fixed  upon  as  their 
head-quarters  for  the  remaining  part  of  the  summer. 

But  the  expensive  manner  in  which  he  lived  with 

Mr.   H n,  and  those  to  whose  acquaintance  that 

gentleman  introduced  him,  all  of  them  gay,  sprightly 
young  fellows,  who  had  money  at  command,  in  less 
than  a  month  reduced  the  funds  which  Barrington  had 
brought  with  him  from  Ireland  to  about  twenty  guineas, 
which  to  him,  who  had  been  now  for  some  years  ac- 
customed to  live  like  a  man  of  affluent  fortune,  seemed 
to  afford  a  very  inconsiderable  resource :  he  therefore 
resolutely  determined  to  procure  a  supply  of  money  by 
some  means  or  other.  One  evening,  while  he  was  de- 
liberating with  himself  on  the  choice  of  expedients  to 
recruit  his  finances,  he  was  interrupted  in  his  medita- 
tions on  the  subject  by  the  arrival  of  a  party  of  his 
friends  with  the  captain,  who  proposed  to  accompany 
them  to  Ranelagh,  where  they  had  agreed  to  meet 
some  of  their  acquaintance,  and  to  spend  the  evening. 
Their  proposal  was,  without  much  hesitation,  acceded 
to  by  Barrington,  and  they,  without  further  loss  of  time, 
ordered  coaches  to  set  them  down  at  that  celebrated 
place  of  amusement. 

Walking  in  the  middle  of  the  gay  scenes  that  sur- 
rounded him,  he  chanced  to  espy  the  two  other  com- 
panions of  his  voyage  in  the  Dorset  packet,  to  whom 
he  only  made  a  slight  bow  of  recognition ;  and  in  less 
than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards  he  saw  the  duke 
of  Leinster  engaged  deeply  in  conversation  with  two 
ladies  and  a  knight  of  the  Bath,  who,  it  afterwards 


GEORGE    BARRINGTON.  269 

turned  out,  was  Sir  William  Draper ;  and  near  these 
he  placed  himself,  quitting  for  a  short  time  the  compa- 
ny to  which  he  belonged.  While  he  was  stationed 
there,  an  opportunity,  which  he  considered  a  fair  one, 
offered  itself  of  making  a  good  booty,  and  he  availed 
himself  of  it:  he  picked  the  duke's  pocket  of  above 
eighty  pounds,  Sir  William's  of  five  and  thirty  guineas, 
and  one  of  the  ladies  of  her  watch,  with  all  which  he 
got  off  undiscovered  by  the  parties,  and  joined  the 
captain  and  his  party  as  if  nothing  had  happened  out 
of  the  ordinary  and  common  routine  of  affairs  in  such 
places  of  public  recreation  as  Ranelagh. 

A  degree  of  fatality,  rather  unfortunate  for  Barring- 
ton,  it  seems,  occurred  during  the  perpetration  of  the 
robbery  just  related ;  that  is  to  say,  he  was  observed 
in  the  very  act  by  one  of  the  persons  who  came  with 
him  in  the  Dorset  yacht  from  Ireland  to  Parkgate; 
and  this  man,  who  was  also  a  practitioner  in  the  same 
trade  of  infamy,  lost  no  time  in  communicating  what 
he  saw  to  Barrington  himself,  and  that  in  a  manner 
not  by  any  means  calculated  to  conceal  his  triumph  on 
the  occasion  :  in  fact,  this  gentleman's  affairs  being 
pressing,  he  made  very  little  ceremony  of  informing 
Mr.  Barrington  that,  unless  he  was  willing  to  give  him 
a  share  of  the  plunder,  he  should  communicate  to  the 
parties  robbed,  without  delay,  the  particulars  of  what 
he  had  seen.  The  consequences  of  a  proposal  of  this 
nature  presenting  a  disagreeable  alternative,  Mr.  Bar- 
rington, as  it  may  be  imagined,  naturally  chose  the 
least  of  two  evils,  and,  under  pretence  of  being  attacked 
with  a  sudden  complaint,  immediately  retired  with  his 
new  acquaintance  to  town,  and  putting  up  at  the 
Golden  Cross  inn,  at  Charing-cross,  the  booty  ac- 
quired at  Ranelagh  was  in  some  sense  divided,  the 
new  intruder  contenting  himself  with  taking  the  la- 
dy's watch,  chain,  &c,  which  were  of  gold,  and  a  ten 
pound  note,  leaving  all  the  rest  of  the  money  and  the 
bank-papers  with  Mr.  Barrington,  who,  he  probably 
conceived,  had  run  the  greatest  risk  to  obtain  them  at 
first. 


270  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

But  in  order  to  cement  the  connection  which  these 
two  were  now  on  the  point  of  forming,  Mr.  James  (for 
by  that  name  this  new  accomplice  called  himself,) 
insisted  upon  Barrington  supping  with  him  ;  and  as 
Mr.  James  knew  the  town  much  better  than  himself, 
Barrington  thought  he  would  be  a  real  acquisition, 
particularly  in  helping  him  to  dispose  of  the  valuables 
he  might  acquire.  Picking  pockets,  therefore,  was 
proposed  by  Mr.  Barrington  as  a  joint  concern. 

The  outlines  of  the  future  operations  of  these  adven- 
turous colleagues  being  adjusted,  it  was  further  agreed 
upon  to  have  another  interview  on  the  next  day  at  a 
tavern  in  the  Strand,  there  to  regulate  the  plan  of  their 
future  conduct;  and  affairs  being  so  far  arranged, 
Barrington  returned  to  his  lodgings  at  the  Bath  coffee- 
house, where,  luckily  enough,  neither  captain  H -n 

nor  any  of  his  party  were  at  that  time  arrived  from 
Ranelagh. 

The  next  morning,  at  breakfast,  he  informed  his 
friend  the  captain,  that  on  his  return  last  night,  he 
chanced  to  meet  a  very  worthy  relation  of  his,  Sir 
Fitzwilliam  Barrington,  who  engaged  him  that  day  to 
dinner;  so  that  it  would  be  out  of  his  power  to  make 
one  of  the  party  that  were  to  spend  the  day  with  the 
captain  at  the  Thatched-house  tavern ;  but  that,  how- 
ever, he  would  endeavor  to  contrive  matters  so  as  to 
join  them  early  in  the  evening,  and  stay  to  supper  with 
them,  if  they  were  bent  upon  keeping  it  up  to  a  late 
hour. 

This  apology  was  received  without  any  suspicion  by 
the  gentleman  to  whom  it  was  made,  as  it  accounted 
plausibly  enough  for  his  fellow-traveller's  absenting 
himself,  notwithstanding  a  kind  of  prior  engagement  to 
Mr.  H n. 

Afterwards,  Barrington  being  dressed,  called  a  coach 
and  drove  to  the  Crown  and  Anchor  tavern,  where  he 
found  Mr.  James,  who  had  been  for  some  time  waiting 
for  him.  The  cloth  being  removed,  and  the  servants 
withdrawn,  these  worthy  gentlemen  entered  upon  busi- 
ness.     It   was    agreed    upon,    that   whatever   either 


GEORGE  BARRINGTON.  271 

acquired,  should  be  equally  divided  between  them ; 
and  that  in  the  sale  of  watches,  jewels,  or  any  other 
articles  they  might  have  to  dispose  of,  both  should  be 
present.  By  this  provision,  no  suspicion  of  fraud  could 
be  entertained ;  and  thus  Barrington  got  what  he 
extremely  wished,  and  greatly  wanted,  an  introduction 
to  a  fence,  or  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods.  It  was  farther 
settled  by  them,  that  while  the  captain  remained  in 
town,  they  should  take  care  not  to  be  seen  together, 
and  that  Mr.  James  should  resume  his  long  neglected 
habit  of  a  clergyman.  These  weighty  conditions,  and 
some  others  of  equal  magnitude  and  importance,  being 
ultimately  adjusted  to  the  satisfaction  of  these  system- 
atic plunderers,  it  was  determined  on  that  they  should 
meet  regularly  twice  a  week,  that  is,  on  Tuesdays  and 
Fridays,  to  settle  with  each  other;  but  never,  if  it 
could  possibly  be  avoided,  twice  at  the  same  house. 
Having  then  adjourned  to  the  next  Tuesday,  and  fixed 
on  the  Devil  tavern,  at  Temple-bar,  as  the  place  of 
their  next  meeting,  our  adventurers  separated  for^that 
time,  Barrington  going,  according  to  his  appointment, 
to  the  Thatched-house  tavern,  and  reaching  it  about 
eight  in  the  evening,  where  he  found  his  friend  the 
captain  and  a  large  party  of  his  acquaintance.  Though 
rather  far  gone  in  liquor,  most  of  them  knew  him  per- 
sonally, and  considering  him  in  the  light  in  which  he 

was   represented   to   them   by  captain  H n,  as   a 

young  man  of  condition,  they  were  delighted  with  his 
company.  He  only  waited  till  the  bills  were  called 
for,  and  the  reckoning  discharged,  when,  there  being 
no  farther  obstacle  to  a  hasty  retreat,  he  plundered 
those  who  were  most  off  their  guard  ;  or  rather  those 
who,  as  he  supposed,  were  possessed  of  the  most  por- 
table kind  of  property.  Still,  as  the  prey  then  made 
consisted  more  of  watches  and  trinkets  than  ready 
cash,  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  calling  upon  Mr. 
James,  his  new  friend,  next  morning,  who  readily 
introduced  him  to  a  man,  a  receiver  of  stolen  property, 
and  who  paying  them  what  they  deemed  an  adequate 
consideration,  they  made  the  first  division  with  as  much 


272  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

apparent  satisfaction  as  if  they  had  been  lawful  dealers 
in  the  commodities  of  which  they  had  unjustly  de- 
prived the  right  owners. 

So  strongly  did  appearance  plead  for  him  at  this 
time,  that  Barrington's  depredation  was  never  imputed 
to  him  by  those  who  suffered  in  consequence  of  it ;  and 
though  similar  offences  were  at  different  seasons,  for 
upwards  of  two  years,  committed  by  him  without  sus- 
picion or  detection,  he  preserved  his  fame,  and  even 
extended  his  acquaintance.  With  certain  superficial  qua- 
lifications for  shining  in  company,  and  yet  a  stranger 
to  honor  or  honesty,  in  the  summer  of  the  year  1775,  in 
the  course  of  his  depredations,  he  visited,  as  his  cus- 
tom was,  the  most  celebrated  watering-places ;  and 
among  the  rest  he  went  to  Brighton,  which  at  that 
time,  though  frequented  by  genteel  company,  was  far 
from  having  arrived  at  the  celebrity  which  it  has  since 
acquired,  especially  since  the  conclusion  of  the  peace 
with  France.  But  notwithstanding  the  paucity  of 
numbers  at  this  watering-place,  he  is  said  to  have  had 
the  address  to  ingratiate  himself  into  the  notice  and 
favor  of  the  late  duke  of  Ancaster,  with  several  other 
persons  of  rank  and  property,  who  all  considered  him 
as  a  man  of  genius  and  ability,  and  as  a  gentleman  of 
fortune  and  noble  family. 

But,  in  tracing  all  Mr.  Barrington's  very  singular 
connections,  it  is  necessary  to  remark,  that  about  the 
conclusion  of  this  winter  he  got  acquainted  with  one 
Lowe,  a  very  singular  character,  and  one  who,  like  his 
friend  James,  he  occasionally  made  use  of  to  vend  his 
ill-gotten  property. 

Mr.  Barrington's  new  junction  with  Mr.  Lowe  hav- 
ing rendered  Mr.  James  rather  a  dead  weight  upon  his 
hands,  he  began  to  think  about  breaking  with  him, 
which  he  did  not  find  a  difficult  matter,  as  James, 
having  at  bottom  some  remorse  of  conscience  for  his 
neglect  of  the  laws  of  justice  and  moral  obligation,  very 
easily  quitted  Mr.  Barrington's  connection ;  and  what 
is  more  extraordinary,  being  a  Roman  Catholic  by 
profession,  retired  to  a  monastery  upon  the  continent, 


GEORGE    BARRINGTON.  -        273 

there  in  all  probability  to  end  his  days  in  piety  and 
peace.  Barrington,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  to  in- 
crease in  temerity  and  desperation ;  for  on  his  forming 
a  connection  with  Lowe,  which  was  but  a  short  time 
previous  to  that  evening  of  the  month  of  January  which 
was  observed  as  the  anniversary  of  the  queen's  birth- 
day, it  was  resolved  on  between  them,  that,  habited  as 
a  clergyman,  he  should  repair  to  court,  and  there 
endeavor,  not  only  to  pick  the  pockets  of  some  of  the 
company,  but,  what  was  a  bolder  and  a  much  more 
novel  attempt,  to  cut  off  the  diamond  orders  of  some  of 
the  knights  of  the  Garter,  Bath,  and  Thistle,  who  on 
such  days  usually  wear  the  coMars  of  their  respective 
orders  over  their  coats.  In  this  enterprize  he  succeeded 
beyond  the  most  sanguine  expectations  that  could  have 
been  formed  by  either  his  new  accomplice  Lowe  or 
himself;  for  he  found  means  to  deprive  a  nobleman  of 
his  diamond  order,  and  also  contrived  to  getaway  from 
the  palace  without  suspicion.  This  being  an  article  of 
too  much  value  to  dispose  of  in  England,  it  is  reported 
that  it  was  sold  to  a  Dutchman,  or  rather  to  a  Dutch 
Jew,  who  came  over  from  Holland  once  or  twice  a  year 
for  the  sole  object  of  buying  jewels  that  had  been 
stolen ;  and  though  a  stranger,  he  is  generally  reported 
to  have  given  a  much  higher  price  for  such  articles 
than  could  have  been  gotten  from  the  receivers  in 
town. 

The  celebrated  Russian  prince  OrlofT  paid  his  first 
visit  to  England  in  the  winter  of  1775.  The  high 
degree  of  estimation  in  which  that  nobleman  had  long 
been  held  by  the  late  empress  Catharine,  had  ulti- 
mately heaped  upon  him  not  a  few  of  her  distinguish- 
ing favors.  Among  other  things  of  this  nature,  she 
had  expressed  her  approbation  of  his  merits  by  pre 
senting  him  with  a  gold  snuff-box,  set  with  brilliants 
generally  supposed  to  have  been  worth  no  less  a  sum 
than  thirty  thousand  pounds.  This  distinguishing 
trophy  having  caught  the  eye  of  Barrington,  impelled 
him  to  contrive  means  to  get  it  into  his  possession,  and 
he  thought  a  fit  opportunity  presented  itself  one  night  at 


274  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

Oovent  Garden  theatre,  where,  getting  near  the  prince, 
he  had  the  dexterity  to  convey  it  out  of  his  excellency's 
waistcoat  pocket  into  his  own  ;  when,  being  imme- 
diately suspected  by  the  prince,  he  seized  him  by  the 
collar;  but,  in  the  bustle  that  took  place,  Barrington 
slipped  the  box  into  his  hand,  which  that*  nobleman 
gladly  retained,  though  Barrington,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  all  around,  was  secured  and  lodged  in  Tothill- 
fields  Bridewell  till  the  Wednesday  following,  when 
his  examination  took  place  at  the  public  office  in 
Bow  street. 

Sir  John  Fielding  being  at  that  time  the  magistrate, 
Barrington  represented  himself  to  him  as  a  native  of 
Ireland,  of  an  affluent  and  respectable  family.  He 
said  that  he  had  been  educated  in  the  medical  line, 
and  came  to  England  to  improve  himself  by  the  extent 
of  his  connections.  To  this  plausible  representation  he 
added  so  many  tears,  and  seemed  to  rest  so  much  upon 
his  being  an  unfortunate  gentleman,  rather  than  a 
guilty  culprit,  that  prince  Orloff  declining  to  prosecute 
him,  he  was  dismissed  with  an  admonition  from  the 
magistrate  to  amend  his  future  conduct ;  but  this,  it 
will  appear,  had  no  manner  of  influence  upon  his  sub- 
sequent proceedings.  In  fact,  Barrington  having  gone 
too  far  to  recede,  every  one  now  taking  alarm  at  his 
character  and  conduct,  and  the  public  prints  naturally 
holding  him  up  as  a  cheat  and  impostor,  he  was  even 
forsaken  by  those  who,  until  that  discovery  of  his 
practices,  generally  countenanced  him,  and  enjoyed  his 
company  as  a  young  gentleman  of  no  common  abilities. 

Being  in  the  lobby  of  the  lords  one  day,  when  an 
appeal  of  an  interesting  nature  was  expected  to  come 
on,  so  that  Barrington  thought  to  profit  by  numbers  of 
genteel  people  that  generally  attend;  unhappily  for 
Barrington' s  projects,  a  gentleman  recognised  his  per- 
son, and  applying  to  the  deputy  usher  of  the  black  rod, 
Barrington  was  disgracefully  turned  out,  and,  of  course, 
totally  disappointed  of  the  harvest  he  had  promised 
himself. 

Barrington,  having  by  some  means  heard  that  this 


GEORGE  BARRINGTON.  275 

gentleman  was  the  person  who  had  denounced  him  to 
the  keeper  of  the  lobby,  was  so  indiscreet  as  to  threaten 
him  with  revenge  for  what  he  deemed  an  unmerited 
injury ;  but,  the  magistrates  thinking  otherwise,  they 
granted,  upon  that  gentleman's  complaint,  a  warrant 
against  Barrington  to  bind  him  over  to  keep  the  peace. 
His  credit  having  sunk  so  very  low,  that  not  one  of  all 
his  numerous  acquaintance  would  become  a  surety  for 
him,  he  was  compelled  to  go  to  Tothill-nelds  Bridewell, 
where  he  remained  a  considerable  time  under  confine- 
ment, from  his  inability  to  procure  the  bail  that  was 
required.  However,  having  again  obtained  a  release 
from  that  disagreeable  quarter,  he  had  no  alternative 
but  that  of  his  old  profession,  and,  therefore,  in  about 
three  months  afterwards,  we  find  him  delected  in  pick- 
ing the  pocket  of  a  low  woman,  at  Drury-Lane  thea- 
tre, for  which,  being  indicted  and  convicted  at  the  Old 
Bailey,  he  was  sentenced  to  ballast-heaving,  or,  in  other 
words,  to  three  years'  hard  labor  on  the  river  Thames, 
on  board  of  the  hulks  at  Woolwich.  As  soon  as  it  was 
convenient,  in  the  spring  of  1777,  Barrington  was  put 
on  board  one  of  these  vessels. 

A  sudden  remove  from  ease  and  affluence  to  a  scene 
of  wretched  servitude  and  suffering,  and  the  privation 
of  almost  every  comfort  in  life,  could  not  but  have  a 
most  sensible  effect  upon  a  man  in  his  condition.  In 
short,  he  was  not  only  harassed  and  fatigued  with 
labor,  to  which  he  had  been  unaccustomed,  but  even 
disgusted  with  the  filthy  language  of  his  fellow-convicts, 
whose  blasphemous  effusions,  which  they  seemed  to 
make  use  of  by  way  of  amusement,  must  have  been  a 
constant  source  of  the  most  disagreeable  sensations  in 
the  mind  of  almost  any  person  not  totally  lost  to  the 
feelings  and  the  decencies  of  civilized,  or  even  a  savage 
state  of  existence.  At  length  the  mental,  as  well 
as  the  corporeal  sufferings  of  Barrington,  did  not  escape 
the  notice  of  Messrs.  Erskine  and  Duncan  Campbell, 
the  superintendents  of  the  convicts ;  for,  in  consequence 
of  Barrington's  good  behavior,  and  through  the  inter- 
ference of  these  gentlemen,  he  was  again  set  at  liberty, 


276  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS.     . 

after  sustaining  nearly  a  twelvemonth's  severe  suffering 
on  board  the  hulks  of  Woolwich. 

Still,  nothing  that  Barrington  had  yet  undergone 
was  sufficient  to  produce  any  cordial  repentance  in  his 
mind.  He  again  entered  into  the  full  practice  of  his 
former  profession.  In  less  than  six  months  after  his 
liberation  from  hard  labor,  he  was  detected  by  one 
Payne,  a  very  zealous  constable  in  the  city,  in  the  very 
act  of  picking  pockets  at  St.  Sepulchre's  church  during 
divine  service,  and  being  convicted  upon  undeniable 
evidence  at  the  ensuing  Old  Bailey  sessions,  he  was 
a  second  time  sentenced  to  hard  labor  on  board  the 
hulks,  and  that  for  five  years. 

It  was  upon  his  trial  on  this  occasion,  that  Barring- 
ton  was  first  noticed  in  the  public  prints  as  an  able 
speaker.  He  then  essayed,  with  no  small  degree  of 
artifice,  to  interest  the  feelings  of  the  court  in  his 
behalf;  but  the  evidences  of  his  guilt  being  too  forcible 
and  repeated,  and  all  his  efforts  proving  abortive,  he 
was  once  more  removed  to  the  hulks,  about  the  middle 
of  the  year  1778.  Being  a  second  time  in  this  humi- 
liating and  disgraceful  situation,  he  found  his  imaginary 
consequence  so  much  hurt,  that,  failing  in  a  variety  of 
plans  to  effect  his  escape,  his  next  attempt  was  to  des- 
troy himself.  For  this  purpose,  he  took  an  opportunity 
to  be  seen  stabbing  himself  with  a  penknife  in  the 
breast ;  but  as  the  wound,  by  the  immediate  applica- 
tion of  medical  assistance,  was  slpwly  healed,  he  con- 
tinued to  linger  in  this  new  state  of  wretchedness,  till, 
happening  to  be  seen  by  a  gentleman  who  came  to 
visit  the  hulks,  it  produced  another  event  in  his  favor. 

The  gentleman  just  alluded  to  being  most  sensibly 
affected  by  the  dejected  and  squalid  appearance  of  Bar- 
rington, made  a  most  successful  use  of  his  influence 
with  government  to  obtain  Barrington 's  release,  upon 
the  condition  that  he  should  leave  the  kingdom.  To 
this  as  Barrington  gladly  assented,  he  generously  sup- 
plied him  with  a  sum  of  money  to  defray  the  expense 
of  his  removal  to  Ireland,  where  it  is  understood  this 
unhappy  offender  always  persisted  in  stating  that  he 


GEORGE    HARRINGTON.  277 

had  friends  ar.d  relatives  of  credit  and  character. 
In  London  he  did  not  think  proper  to  stay  longer  than 
was  needful  to  procure  necessaries  for  his  journey  ;  he 
therefore  took  the  Chester  coach,  and  in  the  course  of  a 
week  was  enabled  to  reach  the  Irish  capital,  where  his 
fame  having  arrived  before,  he  was  looked  upon  with 
such  an  eye  of  suspicion,  that  he  was  shortly  appre- 
hended for  picking  the  pocket  of  an  Irish  noble- 
man of  a  gold  watch  and  his  money  at  one  of  the 
theatres,  and  was  soon  after  committed  to  the  New 
Gaol  to  be  tried  upon  the  charge,  but  was  acquitted  for 
want  of  evidence. 

Though  he  was  acquitted  on  this  occasion,  he  was 
perfectly  convinced  that  the  Irish  capital  would  be  too 
warm  to  retain  him.  He  quickly  determined  to  leave 
Ireland,  and  accordingly  removed  to  the  northern  parts 
of  that  kingdom,  through  which  he  took  his  way  to 
Edinburgh,  where  he  concluded  that  he  might,  for 
some  time  at  least,  commit  his  depredations  with  greater 
safety  and  facility  than  he  could  do  either  in  London 
or  Dublin. 

But,  in  the  opinion  which  he  had  formed  of  the  cha- 
racter of  the  Scots,  he  soon  learned  by  experience  that 
he  was  grossly  mistaken ;  for  he  was  quickly  observed 
in  the  capital  of  Scotland,  where  the  police  is  more 
vigilant  and  severe  than  in  most  other  parts  of  the 
British  dominions.  He  therefore  thought  it  prudent  to 
depart  from  Edinburgh,  where  his  gleanings  were  com- 
paratively small. 

However,  being  determined  to  return  to  London,  he 
took  Chester  in  his  way,  and  it  being  fair-time  there,  he  is 
said  to  have  contrived  to  get  possession  of  the  amount 
of  six  hundred  pounds  in  cash  and  bank  notes,  witli 
which  he  got  clear  off. 

Such  are  the  delusions  of  vice  and  the  fatal  sweets 
of  ill-gotten  wealth,  that,  though  additional  danger 
attended  his  public  appearance,  from  the  infraction  of 
the  terms  on  which  he  was  liberated  from  his  confine- 
ment on  board  the  hulks,  (which  were  those  of  his 
leaving  the  kingdom  and  never  more  returning  to  it,) 


278  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  Ax\D  ROBBERS. 

still  he  frequented  the  theatres,  the  Opera  House,  and 
the  Pantheon,  with  tolerable  success.  But  he  was  now 
too  notorious  to  be  long  secure :  he  was  closely  watched 
and  well-nigh  detected  at  the  latter  of  these  places ;  at 
least,  such  strong  suspicions  were  entertained  by  the 
magistrates  of  his  conduct  on  the  occasion,  that  he  was 
taken  into  custody,  and  committed  to  Newgate. 

Here  again,  for  want  of  evidence,  he  got  clear  of  the 
charge  brought  against  him ;  but,  notwithstanding  this, 
he  was  unexpectedly  detained  at  the  instance  of  Mr. 
Duncan  Campbell,  the  superintendent  of  the  convicts, 
for  having  returned  to  England  in  violation  of  the  con- 
dition on  which  his  majesty  was  pleased  to  grant  him 
a  remission  of  the  punishment  which  he  was  sentenced 
to  undergo  on  board  the  hulks ;  and  the  consequence  of 
the  detainer  was,  that  he  was  made  what  is  called  a 
fine  at  Newgate,  during  the  unexpired  part  of  the  time 
that  he  was  originally  to  have  served  on  the  Thames. 
When  the  period  of  his  captivity  in  this  prison  expired, 
he  was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  set  at  liberty ;  and  as 
usual,  no  sooner  obtained  his  liberty,  than  he  returned 
to  his  former  practices.  He,  however,  was  now  more 
cautious ;  and  being  connected  with  some  accomplices 
of  his  own  cast,  he  was  not  so  easily  detected  as  lie 
might  have  been  with  others  less  experienced. 

In  a  state  of  alarm  and  anxiety,  he  lived  a  consider- 
able time  in  the  society  of  the  most  profligate  and 
abandoned  characters  of  the  metropolis,  when  he  was 
seen  to  pick  the  pocket  of  Mr.  Le  Mesurier,  at  Drury- 
lane  playhouse,  and  was  immediately  apprehended. 
Charge  of  him  was  given  to  one  Blandy,  a  constable, 
who,  through  negligence  or  corruption,  suffered  him 
to  make  his  escape.  The  proceedings  against  him 
were  carried  on  to  an  outlawry,  and  various  methods 
were  made  use  of  to  detect  him,  for  nearly  two  years, 
without  effect. 

But  while  the  lawyers  were  outlawing  him,  and  the 
constables  endeavoring  to  take  him,  he  was  travelling 
in  various  disguises  and  characters  through  the  north- 
ern counties  of  this  kingdom.     He  visited  the  great 


GEORGE    BAR  KINGTON.  279 

towns  in  those  parts  as  a  quack-doctor,  or  as  a  clergy- 
man;  sometimes  he  went  with  an  E.  O.  table,  and 
sometimes  he  pretended  to  be  a  rider  to  a  manufactur- 
ing house  at  Birmingham  or  Manchester;  and  travel- 
ling on  horseback,  ^ith  a  decent  deportment  and  grave 
appearance,  the  account  which  he  thought  proper  to 
give  of  himself  vas  credited,  without  any  difficulty,  by 
those  who  ques   oned  him. 

But,  in  spit  of  all  these  precautions,  it  sometimes 
happened  thaf  ne  was  known  by  gentlemen  whom  he 
met,  once  pp.ticularly  in  Lincolnshire;  yet  no  one 
offered  to  mr  ,est  or  intercept  him,  until  he  arrived  at 
Newcastle-r  pon-Tyne,  where,  qn  being  recognised,  he 
was  susper  d&  of  picking  pockets,  and,  on  inquiry,  was 
discovered  to  be  an  outlaw  :  upon  which  he  was  re- 
moved b  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  to  London,  and  im- 
prisoned in  Newgate,  where  he  arrived  miserable  and 
so  dejc  ted,  that  on  learning  his  circumstances,  some 
of  hir  friends  made  a  subscription  for  him,  by"  which 
he  was  enabled  to  employ  counsel,  and  to  take  legal 
measures  to  have  the  outlawry  against  him  reversed. 

This  being  effected,  he  was  tried  for  the  original 
offence,  that  of  stealing  Mr.  Le  Mesurier's  purse ;  but, 
through  the  absence  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Adeane,  a  material 
witness  for  the  prosecution,  he  was  acquitted.  Being 
once  more  enlarged,  he  again  set  off  for  Ireland,  in 
company  with  a  young  man  of  the  name  of  Hubert, 
well  known  in  town  for  his  fraud  on  the  duke  of  York. 
With  this  accomplice,  he  was  so  infatuated  as  to 
endeavor  to  carry  on  his  depredations  in  Dublin,  where 
it  was  never  his  fortune  to  remain  for  any  length  of 
time  undetected  ;  for,  Hubert  being  taken  in  the  act 
of  picking  a  gentleman's  pocket,  and  handing  the  pro- 
perty to  Barrington,  he  with  great  difficulty  made  his 
escape  to  England,  where  he  rambled  about  for  some 
time  previously  to  his  arrival  in  the  capital,  which  he 
had  scarcely  entered,  when  he  was  taken  into  custody 
for  picking  Mr.  Henry  Hare  Townsend's  pocket  of  a 
gold  watch. 

Hubert,   his  accomplice,  was  tried  at  Dublin,  and 


280  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

sentenced  to  transportation  for  seven  years ;   but  he 
afterwards  contrived  to  make  his  escape. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  September  15th,  1790. 
Barrington  was  put  to  the  bar  to  be  arraigned  on  an 
indictment  charging  him  with  stealing,  on  the  1st  of 
September,  1790,  in  the  parish  of  Enfield,  a  gold  watch, 
chain,  and  seals,  the  property  of  Henry  Hare  Town- 
send,  Esq.  Upon  this  occasion  Barrington  displayed 
all  the  talents  which  it  has  been  universally  admitted 
he  possessed;  but  in  spite  of  a  long  speech,  which  pro- 
fessed, whether  sincere  or  assumed,  great  contrition  for 
his  past  offences,  and  a  determination  to  amend  his  life 
for  the  future,  he  was  convicted,  and  sentenced  by  th* 
judge  to  seven  years'  transportation. 

During  the  voyage  to  Port  Jackson,  Barrington  ren- 
dered an  essential  service  in  quelling  a  mutiny  in  the 
vessel.  Upon  this  occasion  the  captain  evinced  his 
gratitude  for  the  services  he  had  performed,  and  when 
they  had  reached  the  Cape,  at  the  recommendation  of 
the  former,  he  received  a  hundred  dollars  reward  for 
his  zeal  and  activity. 

On  their  arrival  at  Port  Jackson,  Barrington  having 
been  recommended  to  the  governor,  was  placed  in  the 
first  instance  at  Tamgabbe  as  a  subordinate,  and  was 
soon  advanced  to  be  a  principal  watchman,  in  which 
situation  he  acquitted  himself  as  a  useful  and  active 
officer ;  insomuch  that  the  governor  determined  to 
withdraw  him  from  the  convicts ;  and  at  the  same  time 
that  he  received  his  instrument  of  emancipation,  he 
was  presented  with  a  grant  of  thirty  acres  of  land  at 
Paramatta.  He  was  subsequently  appointed  superin- 
tendent of  the  convicts ;  and  although  not  permitted  to 
return  to  England,  was  invested  with  all  the  immuni- 
ties of  a  freeman,  a  settler,  and  a  civil  officer,  and  had 
the  satisfaction  to  know  that  his  diligence  and  activity 
were  not  only  without  suspicion,  but  were  fully  appre- 
ciated. 

It  was  here  that  Barrington  resolved  to  revise  the 
notes  he  had  taken  during  the  voyage,  and  of  describ- 
ing more  fully  the  places  they  had  touched  at.     Ht 


JAMES    PORTER.  281 

has  accordingly  produced  a  very  useful  and  instructive 
work. 

In  addition  to  this  performance,  he  compiled  a  com  • 
plete  history  of  the  country  itself,  from  its  first  discovery, 
comprehending  an  account  of  its  original  inhabitants, 
their  customs  and  manners,  accompanied  with  an  his- 
torical detail  of  the  proceedings  of  the  colony  from  its 
foundation  to  his  own  time. 

He  continued,  in  the  situation  in  which  the  governor 
had  placed  him  till  his  death ;  and  performed  the  duties 
of  his  office  with  an  unwearied  assiduity,  which  at  last 
superinduced  a  general  decay  of  nature,  of  which  he 
died  in  the  year  1811. 


4&ac*©it  Life** 

JAMES  PORTER 

Was  an  Irishman,  and  a  weaver  by  trade.  He  had 
been  a  robber  in  his  own  country.  We  know  not  what 
events  induced  him  to  seek  a  refuge  in  America,  or 
what  were  his  first  adventures  on  this  side  of  the  Atlan- 
tic. We  first  find  him  in  Philadelphia,  ostensibly  work- 
ing at  his  trade,  but  in  reality  gaining  his  livelihood  by 
dishonest  practices.  He  had  two  accomplices,  George 
Wilson  and  Abraham  Poteet,  weavers,  who  had  learned 
their  trade  in  the  penitentiary.  The  former  was  but 
twenty-three  years  of  age;  yet,  though  his  days  were 
few,  his  iniquities  were  many.  Poteet  had  been  con- 
victed at  the  Baltimore  city  court  of  stealing  four 
handkerchiefs,  for  which  he  was  sentenced  to  five 
years'  imprisonment.  For  a  second  theft  he  was  sen- 
tenced to  imprisonment.  He  had  also  been  convicted 
of  breaking  prison,  of  attempting  a  stage  robbery  and 
wounding  the  driver,  and  of  shooting  at  the  keeper  of 
the  Baltimore  penitentiary.  He  was  a  native  of  Balti- 
more, and  Wilson  also  was  an  American.  They  be- 
came acquainted  in  the  penitentiary,  and  weie  jointly 


282  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  JOBBERS. 

concerned  in  the  attempt  to  break  out,  in  which  the 
life  of  the  keeper  was  endangered.  Such  were  James 
Porter  and  his  associates. 

Porter  and  Poteet  became' tired  of  stealing  wee  things, 
for  so  silver  spoons  were  denominated  by  Porter,  and 
resolved  to  rob  the  Reading  mail,  in  order  to  make  their 
fortune  at  once.  To  prepare  for  this  exploit  Porter  and 
Wilson  crossed  the  Schuylkill,  on  the  20th  of  Novem- 
ber, 1829,  and  broke  into  the  shop  of  Mr.  Watt,  a  gun- 
smith. They  took  thence  five  pistols  and  two  powder- 
flasks.  After  this  the  three  companions  repeatedly 
practised  with  their  pistols  to  ascertain  their  qualities. 

On  the  6th  of  December,  the  mail  stage  started  from 
Philadelphia  at  two  in  the  morning,  driven  by  one  Sa- 
muel M'Crea.  There  were  nine  passengers  inside,  and 
another  on  the  box  with  the  driver.  The  night  was 
dark  and  cloudy.  When  the  stage  had  got  two  miles 
from  the  city  and  was  nearly  opposite  Turner's  lane, 
Porter  started  from  the  road-side,  took  the  off  leading 
horse  by  the  head  and  turned  him  round.  At  the  same 
time  Wilson  and  Poteet  came  up,  one  on  each  side  of 
the  coach,  with  presented  pistols,  bidding  the  driver 
stop,  "or  they  would  blow  his  d — d  brains  out."  He 
struck  the  horses  with  his  whip,  but  could  not  make 
them  go  forward.  Poteet  then  ordered  the  driver  and 
the  passenger  who  sat  beside  him  to  come  down.  The 
driver  obeyed,  and  the  passenger  was  about  descending, 
when  Porter  swore  at  his  comrades  for  not  putting  out 
the  lamps.  Poteet  put  out  the  lamp  on  his  side  with 
the  butt  of  his  pistol :  Wilson  merely  broke  the  glass  of 
the  lamp  next  him.  Porter  then  left  the  horses'  heads, 
ran  up  and  dashed  the  light  out  with  his  pistol.  He 
asked  the  passenger  if  he  had  any  weapons,  and  being 
answered  in  the  negative,  took  his  handkerchief  and 
tied  his  hands  with  it.  The  robbers  then  rifled  the 
passenger  and  bound  the  driver.  Poteet  asked  the 
driver  if  lie  did  not  think  this  a  very  rough  introduction. 
He  answered  that  it  was  The  robber  then  asked  him 
if  he  g>>t  his  living  by  stage  driving,  and  he  replied  that 
he  did,  and  "it  was  a  hard  way  too."     "Well,"  said 


JAMES    PORTER.  283 

the  ruffian,  "  this  is  the  way  we  get  our  living,  and  'tis 
very  hard  with  us  sometimes."  While  these  matters 
were  going  on  Poteet  and  Wilson  held  their  pistols  in 
their  hands,  but  Porter,  more  collected,  thrust  his  into 
his  bosom. 

This  done,  Porter  and  Poteet  went  to  the  doors,  while 
Wilson  watched  the  two  bondmen.  Porter  told  the 
passengers  they  should  receive  no  injury  if  they  did  not 
resist.  A  Mr.  Clarke  proposed  to  attack  the  robbers, 
but  was  overruled  by  the  rest  of  the  passengers.  The 
gentlemen  then  concealed  some  of  their  valuables. 
Porter  asked  if  any  of  them  were  armed,  and  being  an- 
swered in  the  negative,  answered  sneeringly,  that  "it 
was  a  pity." 

The  thieves  next  compelled  the  true  men  to  alight, 
one  by  one.  Porter  searched  them,  and  tied  their  hands 
•with  their  kerchiefs.  As  fast  as  he  tied  them  he  turned 
them  over  to  Poteet,  who  kept  them  quiet  with  his  pis- 
tol. One  of  the  passengers,  after  being  tied,  asked  the 
robbers  for  a  quid  of  tobacco,  which  was  put  into  his 
mouth  by  Poteet.  Another  was  very  reluctant  to  part 
with  his  watch,  which  he  said  had  been  long  in  his 
family,  and  at  his  urgent  entreaty  Poteet  restored  it. 
From  another,  who  was  a  physician,  Poteet  took  the 
seal  of  a  corporation  and  a  case  of  lancets,  but  put 
them  back  into  the  doctor's  pockets  on  being  told  what 
they  were.  The  gentleman  then  asked  Porter  for  half 
a  dollar  to  pay  for  his  breakfast,  and  the  robber  com- 
plied. Another  of  the  passengers  asked  Porter  to  re- 
store his  papers.  uO,"  said  the  ruffian,  "I  dare  say 
all  this  business  will  be  published,  and  then  I  shall 
know  where  to  direct  the  papers.  I  will  send  you  a 
letter." 

Mr.  Clarke  was  the  last  but  one  who  came  out  of  the 
coach.  As  Porter  was  plundering  him  he  said,  that  if 
the  other  passengers  had  followed  his  advice  they  would 
not  have  been  robbed.  l{  Well  done  !"  replied  the  rob- 
ber. "  I  like  to  see  a  man  of  spunk."  After  being  tied. 
Mr.  Clarke  walked  up  to  Poteet,  in  order  to  he  able  to 
recognise  him  if  they  should  meet  again.     The  rogue 

12 


284  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

bade  him  stand  off.  "I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Clarke,  "  you 
are  not  afraid  of  a  small  man,  and  he  bound  too." 
"No,  sir,"  said  Poteet,  "but  I  don't  want  to  be  better 
acquainted  with  you."  "I  hope,"  rejoined  Mr.  Clarke, 
"  that  we  shall  have  a  longer  acquaintance  than  this 
yet.'-  "  1  hope  not,  sir,"  said  Poteet.  On  Mr.  Clarke's 
again  observing  that  the  passengers  would  have  done 
better  to  resist,  Porter  remarked  that  if  they  had,  they 
would  have  seen  the  consequences. 

After  the  passengers  had  all  been  examined,  the  rob- 
bers took  the  baggage  out  of  the  coach  and  from  before 
and  behind  it.  They  then  tried  to  open  the  boot  in 
which  the  mail  bags  were  contained,  but  finding  some 
difficulty,  they  compelled  the  driver  to  do  it.  Mr.  Clarke 
now  remarked  that  another  stage  would  soon  be  along, 
and  this  intelligence  quickened  their  proceedings.  One 
of  them  busied  himself  in  rifling  the  mails  and  trunks, 
while  the  other  two  put  the  passengers  into  the  coach 
again  without-  untying  them.  They  tied  the  driver 
again  and  lifted  him  into  his  seat,  after  which  they  tied 
the  leading  horses  to  the  fence  by  the  road  side.  This 
done,  the  robbers  went  off,  so  softly  that  neither  the 
driver  nor  any  of  the  passengers  were  aware  of  their 
departure. 

The  gentlemen  sat  still  in  the  coach  some  minutes 
after  they  were  gone,  till  one  of  them  contrived  to  untie 
himself,  and  unbound  the  rest.  After  some  consulta- 
tion, it  was  thought  best  to  return  to  the  city.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  post-office  a  person  was  despatched 
to  the  scene  of  the  robbery,  where  he  found  the  mail 
bags  cut  open  and  the  packages  and  newspapers  scat- 
tered around,  but  the  villains  had  carried  away  the 
letters. 

On  the  16th  of  December,  Wilson  carried  one  of  the 
watches  they  had  taken  to  Crosswell  Holmes,  a  pawn- 
broker, and  pledged  it  for  twenty  dollars.  He  said  he 
was  a  carpenter  unable  to  get  employment,  and  was 
therefore  obliged  to  raise  money  on  his  watch.  He 
i  greed  to  pay  Mr.  Holmes  in  —  days,  with  two  dollars 
(commission,  and  signed  the  obligation  "John  James, 
North  Second  street." 


JAMES    PORTER.  285 

On  the  21st,  Porter  carried  another  watch  (a  golden 
one)  to  a  Mr.  Prentiss,  a  pawnbroker,  and  asked  *sixty 
dollars  on  it.  Mr.  Prentiss  refused  to  advance  more 
than  forty-five,  when  Porter  left  him,  saying  he  could 
get  fifty  anywhere.  On  this  occasion  he  represented 
himself  as  a  carpenter,  who  wanted  money  to  repair 
his  house.  The  next  day  Wilson  called  on  Mr.  Pren- 
tiss with  the  same  watch,  saying  the  gentleman  who 
owned  it  had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  the  forty-five 
dollars  offered,  and  that  he  would  act  as  his  agent.  Mr. 
Prentiss  gave  him  the  money,  and  wrote  a  receipt,  which 
Wilson  signed  "  George  Brown,  for  John  Keys." 

Nothing  occurred  to  direct  suspicion  to  either  of  our 
rogues  as  the  robbers  of  the  mail  till  the  middle  of  Ja- 
nuary, when  a  Mr.  JefTers,  a  police  officer  of  Baltimore, 
found  reason  to  believe  that  Poteet  and  Wilson  were 
the  persons  who  shot  at  the  keeper  of  the  penitentiary 
and  at  the  stage  driver  before  mentioned.  He  sought 
them,  and  found  Wilson  first,  in  a  tavern.  The  robber 
drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and  bade  Mr.  JefFers  stand 
off,  but  the  latter  seized  him  by  the  wrist  and  collar  and 
held  him  till  the  landlord  came  into  the  room.  The 
landlord  took  the  pistol  from  Wilson  at  the  request  of 
JefFers,  who  then  asked  the  culprit  for  the  other,  but  he 
denied  having  any.  However,  after  the  police  officer 
had  nearly  strangled  him  he  gave  up  another.  Mr. 
Jeffers  thrust  him  into  a  chair,  when  he  said,  "  Let  me 
stand  up,  and  I  '11  give  it  to  you."  With  the  landlord's 
assistance,  Mr.  JefFers  took  him  to  a  magistrate's  office. 
He  was  committed  to  prison. 

The  next  day  Mr.  JefFers  visited  him,  and  told  him  he 
had  heard  that  two  men  had  offered  to  pawn  a  gold 
watch,  and  he  believed  from  the  description  that  he  was 
one  of  them.  At  the  same  time  he  gave  Wilson  a  de- 
scription of  the  other  man.  Wilson  replied  that  it  was 
Porter,  and  but  for  him,  he,  Wilson,  would  not  have 
been  in  this  difficulty.  He  added  that  Porter  had  a 
better  right  to  suffer  than  himself,  and  he  would  there- 
fore disclose  the  whole  matter.  His  story,  as  told  to 
Mr.  Jeffers,  was  as  follows. 


286  LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN  AND  ROBBERS. 

He  had  gone  out  three  several  times  with  Porter  to 
rob  the  Lancaster  mail,  but  his  heart  failing  him,  they 
returned  without  effecting  their  purpose.  When  Porter 
and  Poteet  proposed  to  rob  the  Reading  mail,  he  would 
have  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  had  he  not  feared  that 
Porter  would  kill  him  if  he  refused.  He  then  described 
the  robbery,  and  the  part  each  had  taken  in  it,  pretty 
much  as  we  have  related  above.  While  the  pillage  was 
going  on,  he  said,  he  was  very  anxious  to  get  away,  but 
Porter  declared  he  would  not  hurry  himself.  He  added 
that  he  was  sorry  he  had  ever  seen  Porter.  He  was 
steady  at  work  in  Philadelphia  till  he  came  and  seduced 
him  from  his  employment.  He  believed  Porter  would 
a?  lief  kill  a  man  as  eat  his  breakfast.  All  this  confes- 
sion took  place  without  any  inducement  on  the  part  of 
Jeffers. 

This  confession  put  the  police  of  Baltimore  on  the 
look-out  for  Porter  and  Poteet.  On  the  ninth  of  Febru- 
ary, Mr.  Stewart,  a  constable,  met  Porter  in  the  street, 
and  accosted  him  with  a  question  concerning  his  health. 
He  added  that  he  had  been  looking  for  him  all  day,  and 
must  now  take  him  with  him.  Porter  asked  him  what 
he  wanted,  and  on  what  authority  he  arrested  him. 
The  officer  replied  that  he  carried  his  authority  in  his 
face,  and  then  asked  if  he  knew  Wilson  or  Poteet,  or 
could  tell  where  they  might  be  found.  He  denied  all 
knowledge  of  them,  but  followed  Mr.  Stewart  quietly 
to  his  house.  The  officer  searched  him,  and  took  from 
him  a  powder-flask  and  a  pair  of  pistols.  Porter  asked 
if  he  meant  to  keep  them,  and  the  constable  replied  that 
he  did.  Porter  very  sternly  said,  "  I  hope  I  shall  live 
to  buy  another  pair  for  somebody."  He  admitted  be- 
fore a  magistrate  that  he  knew  Poteet. 

Mr.  Stewart  conducted  Wilson  to  Philadelphia  first, 
and  Porter  afterwards.  After  they  got  into  the  stage, 
Wilson  said  that  he  believed  his  case  was  hopeless,  and 
that  he  would  plead  guilty  to  every  charge  brought 
against  him.  Mr.  Stewart  asked  him  if  he  were  not 
afraid  to  undertake  to  rob  a  stage  so  full  of  passengers. 
11  No,"  replied  the  villain,  "  three  good  men  could  rob 
a  dozen  at  any  time." 


JAMES    PORTER.  287 

Poteet  was  also  arrested,  and  consented  to  save  his 
own  life  by  becoming  states  evidence. 

Porter's  demeanor  alter  his  arrest  was  marked  by 
that  cool  courage  that  seems  to  have  been  the  only  fa- 
vorable trait  in  his  character.  He  spoke  freely  of  his 
past  life,  without  showing  the  least  compunction,  and 
said  that  if  the  passengers  had  resisted,  he  would  not 
have  scrupled  to  shed  blood. 

On  the  26th  of  April,  1830,  James  Porter  and  George 
Wilson  were  brought  before  the  circuit  court,  and  the 
grand' jury  presented  six  billsof  indictment  against  them. 

They  pleaded  not  guilty  to  all  these  indictments,  and 
applied  for  separate  trials,^  which  was  granted. 

On  the  trial  Wilson  was  identified  as  one  of  the  rob- 
bers, by  the  evidence  of  some  of  the  passengers,  as  well 
as  that  of  Poteet.  The  watches  taKen  from  the  passen- 
gers, and  pawned  by  him,  were  produced  in  court  and 
sworn  to.  So  were  the  weapons  stolen  from  Mr.  Watt's 
shop.  The  other  facts  relating  to  the  robbery  were 
proved,  in  substance,  as  we  have  given  them. 

The  jury  found  a  verdict  of  guilty. 

Porter  was  next  arraigned,  and  found  guilty  on  the 
same  evidence.  Sentence  of  death  was  passed  upon 
him  and  Wilson.  After  sentence  Porter  showed  con- 
trition, but  suffered  with  the  same  hardihood  that  he 
had  exhibited  throughout.  We  can  accord  him  no 
pity.  He  was  the  master  spirit,  the  ringleader,  the 
captain  of  a  band  of  highway  robbers.  He  had  col- 
lected a  gang  about  him,  drilled,  marshalled,  and 
equipped  them,  and  led  them  forth  to  an  unholy  war- 
fare against  the  peace  and  interest  of  society. 

Wilson  was  pardoned  by  president  Jackson  ;  for  what 
reason,  we  cannot  pretend  to  divine.     The  pardon  set 
forth  that  certain  disclosures  were  expected  from  him 
I  ut  we  never  heard  that  he  made  any. 


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